Hollow Hunters
by Le Queen of Morons
Summary: Hollow season is in high gear. Who else is hunting them and what are they doing with them? Can the shinigami figure the mystery out before the balance is thrown off?
1. Chapter 1

It was just another night in Karakura Town. The lights of the city mirrored the stars of the sky, the water of the river rushed past the recessed banks, and the cry of a tortured, hungering spirit ripped through the air – heard only by those gifted with perception toward such things. This night, Ichigo and Rukia were dashing through the darkness directed by instinct and blip upon the petite shinigami's pager.

"There!" The violet eyed reaper exclaimed as soon as the massive, masked beast came into sight.

This particular monster bore white plates of bone across its chest, with only a clean hole through the sternum and back to break the ivory. Jagged talons of the same stuff protruded from grotesque fingers and toes, and purple streaked the rugged flesh which glared through the seams of the plates along its arms and legs. It lumbered after the terrified spirit of a man clad in a ragged business suit – crimson blood stained the side of his contorted face.

"Yeah, yeah, I see it!" As they swept down upon the rampaging beast, the whoosh of fabric whispered through the cool night air, and Zangetsu's blade reflected his deadly purpose as the pale moonlight played off the steel. Ichigo touched ground between the thing and the man, followed silently by Rukia barely a step behind.

"Ok, ugly, say goodnight!" The orange haired teen cried, and started his lunge at the beast's face. Before the blade made contact, however, the grotesque creature lurched clumsily away from the substitute, as if pulled by some unseen force.

Kurosaki stepped back – eyes wide, but oversized sword still at the ready.

"Idiot! What're y.." Rukia's irritated exclamation died in her throat when arcs of electricity burst over the body, and crawled down a line which terminated at an unseen point in the back of the ally.

With a roar angry enough to rattle windows in their frames, the beast plowed backwards into the ground. The acrid scent of ozone rose in compliment to the powdered stone of pulverized sidewalk.

When finally the dust cleared, the two shinigami were barely able to make out a strange, winged figure only a few inches taller than Rukia standing in the shadows at the back of the ally. It braced itself against the pull of the line wrapped around the chest of the monster, and took a cautious step towards the stilled beast. At that first and only step, however, that the figure lifted its head sharply at catching sight of them. Its body visibly tensed.

A strange, strained silence fell between the three.

Chills ran down the reapers' spines when a flash of neon green lit the shadowed eyes of the small, inhuman figure.

Whoever, or whatever, it was crouched briefly at meeting the gazes of with the two. Without warning, the wire snapped back into its hand. Before either of the two could break their shocked paralysis, it spread its leathery wings and leapt soundlessly into the air. It lingering within sight only long enough to offer an impression of a feminine figure wrapped snuggly in what had to be some kind of black jumpsuit.

A talon screeched against the concrete beneath the hollow, as if it was drawing the weapon down a chalkboard, when it twitched with impending consciousness.

That cringe-worthy sound finally snapped the spectral warriors out of their stunned silence. In one fell swoop, the orange-haired teen brought his zanpakto down upon the masked head. Shadow crept over the misshapen body just before it evaporated as the fallen spirit was at last released from its deadly misery.

In the eerie silence which followed, confused amber eyes met contemplative blue.

Ichigo was the one who voiced the question within both of their minds, "What the hell was _that_?"

* * *

**...this was a lot shorter than I thought it would be. Still, I think it's still a good start for someone who hasn't written any kind of fanfiction in years. Future chapters should be longer. ;)**

**Feel free to review if you feel so inclined, of course.**


	2. Chapter 2

"And you're sure she wasn't something from Soul Society or Hueco Mundo?" The Quincy inquired the next day, after hearing of the last night's events.

"I woulda said if she was, Ishida," Kurosaki snapped. Irritated amber eyes glared at annoyingly calm blue sheltered behind those omnipresent glasses.

The incident had been troubling enough that Rukia felt a meeting should be called, so as soon as they had all arrived that morning. Now, the annoyed substitute tugged irritably at the dark red tee he'd hastily pulled on that morning, while Ishida, impeccably neat as always in his clean white short-sleeved shirt and slacks, coolly pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose.

Hoping to avoid another bickering match, the petite shinigami, appearing perfectly innocent in her white sundress, cut in before Uryu could snap back, "Her reiatsu was like nothing I'd felt before. Neither hollow, soul reaper or anything else I know of." She shot a look at Ichigo, "In fact, neither of us even noticed her until she had brought that hollow down."

"Yeah, it was weird. Even when we did get a look at her, it was still really hard to feel. It was almost like it was being repressed, but it didn't feel as if it was something under her control." Golden brown eyes sought Urahara's, "Does this sound like anything you've heard of before?"

"Mm…" The shop owner snapped his fan shut, "No, I'm afraid not. It does bear looking into, though." He cast his gaze around the table – Chad, as immovable as always simply returned the attention passively. Uryu's expression held the sharp contemplation he always bore when an important subject came up. "If any of you do happen to come across her, though, I would advise against confrontation, if possible. It doesn't sound as if she was there to do any of us harm, but until we know more about her, it would be best only to observe for now. Rukia, it may be a good idea to get in touch with the Soul Society, at least to see if they know anything about this."

"Already done." Small hands smoothed down the soft fabric of the skirt over her thighs. "Renji's put in a request with squad twelve for any data they may have on similar phenomenon."

"Good," Kisuke's trademark mischievous grin lit upon his face, "and I take it the moocher will be coming to help with the investigation himself, hm?"

She rolled her eyes at the ex-captain, "Probably, but…" An electronic beeping interrupted her. The pager was pulled out, and flipped open. "More hollow. Three of them this time."

The two reapers separated from their bodies via badge and soul candy before dashing off after the others out of the shop. Kisuke was left at the entrance. "Have fun huuuuunting," his sing-song voice called after them. Once they were out of sight, he turned to head back inside.

Kisuke Urahara had work to do himself.

* * *

Their path lead to the river side, under the bridge connecting the two shores. By the time they got there, one of the hollows had vanished without explanation, but the remaining two were more than lively enough to provide a decent fight. Gouges were already scored into the landscape around the area. The crimson of blood liberally splattered the earth.

Uryu was the first this time to let loose an arrow in the back of one of the hollow, just as it was lunging for its original attacker. Before it fully evaporated, a dark and silent winged figure shot up through the scattering particles. The wind generated from the powerful thrust of those black wings sent the young archer's dark hair fluttering back from his stunned face.

"That's her!" Ichigo cried, unsheathing his sword, and running for the remaining hollow. The sickly green beast was taking a tentacled swing at the winged woman in an attempt to snare her with the suction cups lining the multitude of slimy limbs it swung around.

She dodged out of the way in the nick of time, in the process granting the newcomers a good look at her torn clothing and bloodied body. The wings were indeed demonesque – leathery with clawed tips, her black form-fitting jumpsuit was lined with sleek utility pockets, but torn in several places, blood already drying onto the scraps of tanned skin which peeked through. Short black hair shot through with red in the front flew wildly in the wind, but the eyes were what twisted the stomach.

They were black. Completely pitch, save for the unnerving neon green circles that were her pupils.

Another quickly executed airborne loop-de-loop, and she brushed past Ichigo, inhuman gaze locked briefly on Uryu as she passed him by. The young man's eyes widened as he dropped his stance and raised his shining blue bow on instinct. "Wait!"

The being back winged briefly, and again the Quincy found himself the center of eerie attention. Curiosity graced the fine-boned face, but a strange urgency filled those strange eyes.

"Who are you?" His voice was strong and steady. Neither it nor his stance belayed any of the adrenaline flooding his system. "Are you hurt?"

There was no response, only a slightly confused look. After a scant few seconds of examination, she simply spun and took off into the sky again.

This time, however, Rukia gave elegant chase, with Uryu, sleek with hirenkyaku, close behind.

Ichigo and Chad were left to deal with the remaining hollow.

"We won't hurt you!" The female soul reaper tried this time, a small hand reached out for the bloodied woman in entreaty.

The woman glanced back at the two with glowing narrowed eyes. A stealthy hand disappeared into a pocket over her stomach, before she back winged again and took a sharp left. The pellets she released exploded into a thick grey dust shortly after leaving her fingers. Wind generated from her wings sent the cloud back into the faces of her pursuers.

The two took refuge on a nearby abandoned rooftop, doubled over in coughing fits as the smoke stung their throats and eyes.

"I think," Uryu muttered in a hoarse voice once the worst of the hacking was over, and he was finally able to straighten. "We have a real problem."

Rukia only nodded with a frown, as she too pulled herself upright, gaze fixed in the direction of their lost quarry.

* * *

**Here's the revamp of Chapter 2. I've added a little more detail, so hopefully the picture painted is a little clearer. Feel free to review, of course. We all know that makes a writer's day. ;)**


	3. Chapter 3

Whatever that powder was had a nasty way of clinging to hair and clothing like a tick clinging to its meal. Uryu doubted he'd ever be able to get the grayish tinge out of his jacket, nor the acrid smell out of his nose. Worst of all was the lingering taste of the stuff, and right behind that scummy feeling of it coated over his skin.

All in all, the Quincy found himself in quite the rotten mood by the time he and the smaller soul reaper returned to the original scene. The remaining hollow had been disposed of, and the two friends they'd left behind had been joined by Renji and Orihime. They all looked up at the wayward two's arrival.

"Geeze, what happened to _you_?" Ichigo blurted at seeing their dusty appearance.

"Dirty trick," Uryu replied with a glare, the remaining burn of his throat evident in his rough voice.

The teenage reaper exchanged a glance with Orihime, before making his way over. The buxom youth picked her way over with him. Concerned brown eyes cast over his two friends, "Are you ok? What exactly did she do?"

Rukia shook her head, and flicked a dismissive hand to the side. "We're fine. That woman appears to like her toys – she threw us off her trail with smoke pellets of some kind." Despite her words and easy manner, her voice held that same strained quality as Uryu's. That concerned violet look, however, kept drifting towards the Quincy. Although he held himself with his usual, nonplussed posture, she swore his skin seemed paler than usual under the coating of dust.

"Hey, guys!" Renji's deep voice interrupted before she could bring it up, "Found somethin' over here." He knelt by the battered bridge support at the embankment, scarlet hair glinting in the sunlight. "Looks like your bat-lady isn't working alone."

When the others reached the tattooed man, he pointed out a set of very wide, very deep tire tracks partially hidden beneath the newer battle scars. Upon closer examination of the area around them, there were badly smudged footsteps, and the elongated impression left of something large and heavy being dragged to, then hefted up onto the vehicle.

"Crap," Ichigo scratched the back of his head as he eyed the discovery. "Guess not."

"Is it just me," the stoic young man finally spoke up from where he had crouched to examine one of the trails, "or do these look too big to be from an ordinary car?"

"Chad's right," the Quincy pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, and covered a cough. He attempted to brush off the strange pressure blossoming deep within his chest. It was an odd sort of heaviness – almost as if a nasty chest cold was starting to settle without the preamble of clogged sinuses or general fatigue. "These look like they belong to a truck of some kind, and a big one at that."

As he took a few steps up towards the embankment to track the trails, another fit of coughing forced him to one knee. Blue eyes flitted around the fading world around him. What was going on? As the ground came up to meet him, his gaze rested on a healthy looking, though still dirty Rukia, as she rushed to his side with the rest.

The last thing he saw before black clawed its way to dominate his fleeing consciousness was the peaceful blue of the late summer sky.

* * *

Uryu didn't know how long he'd been out, but when he again opened his eyes, the world was cast with the orange-gold hue of Orihime's Soten Kisshun. It also appeared as if he was indoors again – Urahara's shop – and his soiled Quincy uniform was gone, replaced by a comfortable set of striped PJs. The young man blinked again and met the blurry green eyes of his current care taker. It was then he realized he was without his glasses. Absently, he groped for them, then slid them onto his face when his fingers found them set carefully to his left.

"Try not to move, Uryu, I'm still not finished," the pretty young woman chirped soothingly, and offered him a reassuring smile.

He nodded slightly, and drew a deep breath. The archer found himself grateful for the lightness in his chest. At least his lungs seemed to have opened again, although he still felt somewhat breathless. That scent was still clinging to his nose, though. "What…happened?" Ishida winced slightly at the croak of his voice.

"You passed out," Ichigo's relieved voice spoke up, drawing Uryu's gaze. The Strawberry was once again in his body, still clad in that red shirt and jeans as if nothing had happened. "We got you back here, and cleaned up. Kisuke's analyzing the dust on your clothes."

Midnight eyes blinked, then swept around those knelt around him – Renji, loud tie-dye shirt graced with Chappy in pink stretched across his chest, and Chad, comfortable in a Hawaiian shirt, on his left. Absurdly, he was stricken at how ridiculous the two's fashion sense was, but instead of indulging in the laughter trying to bubble up in his swollen feeling throat, he continued surveying his surroundings. On his right, was Ichigo, Orihime, hands still stretched carefully over him, and - "Rukia, are you ok? Did you pass out, too?"

She shook her head, again in her gigai, clad in the dress he'd made her in the Soul Society and apparently no worse for wear. "No, I didn't. For some reason, it didn't affect me the way it did you." She sighed and leaned over a little to strengthen their eye contact, "I'm sorry, Uryu, we should have been more careful."

Wearily, he shook his head, and attempted a small smile, waving the apology off. "Neither of us could have known. No need to apologize."

The striking woman looked unconvinced. "Still…"

"So, our resident Quincy is awake now, hm?" Urahara interrupted. He must have appeared at the doorway at some point without anyone noticing. "How are you feeling, Uryu?"

"Better." Ishida sighed, and pushed himself up on his elbows. "What have I missed?"

"Oh," the shopkeeper produced his fan out of his sleeve, then popped it open as he knelt by the moocher. "A little of this, a little of that. Nothing to worry about."

"What?" Renji shot hat 'n clogs a look, "but you said - ow!" It's amazing how much a fan to the skull can hurt. A large hand rubbed the assaulted area, as the red-head shot the shopkeeper a reproachful glare.

"It would just be best if you took it easy for a while, Uryu," Kisuke unfolded his fan again, and continued as if nothing had happened, flickering the tool casually before his face.

Midnight blue eyes narrowed suspiciously. The youth couldn't ignore that little exchange. "Urahara, what did she hit us with? And why wasn't Rukia affected?"

The normally jovial man sobered at that and shook his head. "Some kind of toxin. I'm still processing what I've pulled off of your clothing, but I believe that Orihime and Tessai will be able to nullify most its affects until I can figure out an antidote for you." He frowned slightly as his shadowed eyes took in his charge. "You'll be fine, so long as you rest."

The Quincy frowned and closed his eyes briefly, before looking back at the man so proudly bearing the absurd green and white hat. "And Rukia?"

"Well, she was affected," intense blue-grey eyes shifted to the woman, her expression a mirrored the worry of the others, "but not as badly as you were. I believe it's because this toxin is possibly geared directly towards humans. Soul Reapers and humans are similar, but different enough that not all chemicals will affect them in the same way. She's already completely healed."

His heart sank. "…oh."

"We'll get her, Uryu," Ichigo's impassioned voice sounded. The orange-haired teen leaned over his prone friend, eyes reflecting gold from Orihime's power. "That woman won't get away with doing this to you."

"Don't be hasty, Ichigo," Kisuke again replied. "She's not working alone, remember? If anything, her capture would be ideal. We need to find out who she is, who she's working with, why, and just how many people are in this group of hers."

Renji popped is knuckles, and grinned ferally. "That doesn't mean we'll go easy on her, though."

Uryu just sighed and closed his eyes again.

* * *

**Here's the revamp of chapter 3. I actually like it quite a bit more than the original.**

**So, yes...read, enjoy, and if anyone would like to review, I'd be grateful! Cookies and candy canes might be rewarded, if I can figure out how to shove them through internet connections by then!**


	4. Chapter 4

It had taken her a couple of days to heal up from her last match with those strange, destructive monsters.

Despite how tough she was by nature, the schedule she was forced to endure was took a definite toll on her. For the mysterious young inhuman, however, this was par for course. Since infancy, since the womb really, she had been pushed to her limits, then beyond, by those who raised her.

These were things she tried not to think about too much. Remembering the past more often than not brought up the questions of "what if". What if she had been born into a normal body? What if she had been born in a normal way?

"What ifs" were often followed by contemplation of how it would have been like to have these luxuries.

So, it was better just not to think about it. Follow the orders constantly thrust upon her, endure the endless experiments and the reprimands. Cherish the few joys she was allowed, and try not to dwell on the ones she had been denied.

Her higher ups had not been happy with the condition she returned to them in, and even less so with her report of what had happened.

Although the video and audio data she had been able to bring back from the surveillance tools built into her uniform showed only the dark haired young man with the intense eyes, and the giant with the kind aura, she again reported her interaction with the two sword-bearing young people in the black hakama and gi. As a result, the footage had been sent off for further processing. Of what type it was, however, she was never privy. The only reason she knew this much was because, as was often the case, her sharp ears overheard two officers talking about it while she was undergoing the post-battle examination. She'd grown used to their low opinion of her intelligence long ago, and had taken to assuaging her curiosity with no more than silent observation.

At least she had been able to capture one of the prey, so the mission wasn't a complete waste.

A corner of her mind hoped she wouldn't have to hurt these strange people. They, after all, didn't seem to want to hurt her. These fighters were interesting, and from what little she'd seen of their eyes, their hearts seemed neither cold nor calculating, unlike most of her caretakers. She knew from her brief stint in China that these were true warriors. Far more so than she saw herself as.

Again, more thoughts that would get her in trouble.

She cleared her mind of these and let the damp night air whisper over her black-clad form. Again, she was on the hunt for the beasts her commanders found so fascinating.

Jet eyes snapped up and flashed a bright green when a familiar ethereal heaviness settled in her chest and across her shoulders. Another monster was about to show up, and a big one, judging from the intensity of the sensation.

Boot clad feet silently lit upon a tiled roof, and she settled her leathery wings around herself – crouched like a gargoyle dropped in perfect pose onto the Japanese landscape. Glowing eyes rose to the sky as a sickening rip opened within the clouded depths. Fat drops of rain fell from the sky, as if bleeding from the pitch wound.

To her surprise, a grotesque beast wasn't what stepped through, but instead, a man.

While the man seemed to be mostly human, he still bore a partial white mask like those of the beasts she hunted over half his face – jaw to brow. The grotesque, fanged grin of the mask was cut off abruptly by the scowl worn upon the exposed half of his chiseled face. Soft blond hair grew darker as the rain wet it down against the skull beneath. He was clad in white. The style was a strange mix of east and west – below the waist, he wore a snowy hakama, and above, a short, sleeveless western styled jacket, which hung open to exposed his toned torso. That torso seemed to be perfectly normal, save for the clean hole punched clear through his chest, where his heart would otherwise be.

This stranger spat something menacing at her. She made no reply, but slowly she stood. Defiantly, she spread her wings.

His crimson eyes widened at the unspoken insult just before he drew the katana at his side, and lunged – super-heated blade arching at her throat. The weapon hissed when water falling from the heavens hit it. Tendrils of steam drifted behind its deadly course.

Gracefully, she dropped off the side of the building, only to catch an updraft in the arches of her glistening wings. Out of the hip pocket on her left, she pulled her coiled whip and snapped it out at him as she shot up to meet her foe midair.

Dully glowing sword met vibrantly sparking whip in a dazzling show of fireworks – refracted a million times in droplets of water. The two combatants broke apart, only to lunge again. The electric white of the whip stung his face, but she never saw the sudden scarlet of the cero fired from the blade before it impacted with her stomach.

She swooped around and caught her breath. A hand briefly passed over her now exposed midriff. The skin was still an angry red, though nearly completely healed already. Unnatural green light shone from the slit eyes watching her adversary. He appeared unscathed, though from his glare, she had managed to get under his skin.

At least she controlled his temper.

Although he did feel shockingly similar to the primitive beasts she'd grown used to dealing with of late, she knew without a shadow of a doubt that he was several levels above them in power, if not intellect.

Apparently, he still wasn't smart enough to realize he wasn't going to get a verbal response from her, however.

At his mocking words, she shot in close enough to land a throwing knife from her sleeve in his side while he blocked the feint from her whip. Before she let the blade fly, she'd punched a small button in the butt of its hilt with a deft fingertip.

Regardless of her speed, a ragged growl forced its way from her throat when his sword found its burning path across her shoulder. It left a singed tear through the flesh, though she had the feeling his true target was her throat. The wound itself closed nearly as soon as it was made.

Satisfaction swept through her, however, at the small explosion in his side when the knife self-destructed. His body jerked to the side, as an enraged cry leapt from his throat.

That satisfaction wavered, however, when the damage repaired itself. She shouldn't have been surprised – some of the prior beasts had healed just as quickly. Instead of giving him a chance to put her on the offensive, she again dove in at him.

So, on they parried and thrust. As the fight wore on, she realized with a certain amount of disgust that he was trying to wear her down enough to take her wherever he came from.

When her bleeding continued longer and longer from the blows he inflicted; when its current ceased to ebb altogether, she realized with dread that his tactic was starting to work.

* * *

By the time the trio of friends had reached the scene, both the infuriated arrancar and the considerably calmer looking woman were dripping with blood. Heedless of the mutual injuries and cold rain adding a sleek sheen to everything it touched, they were still fiercely locked in combat. Renji shot a quick look at Ichigo and Rukia, before taking his position behind the winged woman – his two close friends flanked the duo.

"Howl, Zabimaru!" His baritone roared as he set free his zanpakto's shikai.

The winged woman started and glanced over her shoulder at him, before clenching her slick wings tightly to her body to drop out of the sectioned blade's wrath – leaving its fury instead to bite into her just as startled opponent.

The as of yet unnamed man dropped back with a curse, holding his mangled arm, only to open a garganta. This one was smart enough to realize he stood no chance against three soul reapers after the beating he took at the hands of the strange woman. With a lingering glare at the group, he vanished into the shadows beyond the threshold.

Abarai's fierce gaze locked on the winged woman again upon the beaten man's departure. She crouched on the roof of one of the buildings below, hands pressed to the tile on either side of her, head tilted up in their direction. It didn't look like she'd be much of a challenge anymore, what with the bloodied, shredded state of her clothing and the labored nature of her breathing.

However, the three cautiously surrounded her, watching carefully as her eyes flitted between each of them. She'd lost that electrified whip somewhere along the way, but while she was empty handed, a sharp bone talon as long as the fingers themselves extended in a subtle curve from each slender fingertip. The rain had begun to wash the scarlet from the pale tips of the weapons.

Once her freakish eyes again rested on the redhead, he stepped forward, sword held at the ready, "Now, take it easy, lady, you're in bad shape. If you don't make this harder than it needs to be, we won't hurt you any further."

One raven brow arched at his tone and advance, before she coiled and leapt straight up, directly into Ichigo's attack. He'd flash-stepped at her as soon as he saw the tension of her muscles. Her surprised claws met with his dark blade immediately before she bounced back away from him.

"You idiot!" Renji heard Rukia shout, "She can't understand you, remember?"

"…oh, yeah." He grinned ferally, as he darted in to his friend and the battered warrioress. "Hard way it is, then."

* * *

**Thanks for the reviews and watches, guys! Glad you're having as much fun watching this as I am writing it.**

** Next chapter will be up once...I finish writing it! Probably sometime this week. As always, reviews are very much appreciated, as are the watches and faves. ;)**

**Edit: This chapter is now spruced up a bit. Not too different from the original, actually.  
**


	5. Chapter 5

Renji had reached out to grab the winged woman as soon as her recoil brought her within reach. His hand brushed across the slick surface of a wing before she slipped past him. He watched as she ducked under Rukia's blade, and again, into Ichigo when he followed her movement with a slice of his own.

Instead of moving back this time, however, she slipped to the side - into his guard. Her claws scored their way across the teen's chest – slicing through soaked fabric, and into the flesh below, just before the flat of her other hand thrust into his stomach. The substitute soul-reaper's back-pedal provided the hairline opening she was looking for. As soon as he was clear, she launched herself desperately into the void beyond the roof.

Abarai bolted after her when she rose unsteadily into the air. With a thrust of glistening leathery wings, she shot away from them. In the blink of an eye, the young woman had easily cleared two buildings.

"Hadou 31, red flame cannon!" He dimly heard Rukia's incantation, and watched as the flaming ball of red impacted the woman square in the small of her back. Steam burst upon the spell's impact with the wet fabric.

The stranger's shocked cry ripped through the patter of the falling rain. She dropped – the inertia of her trajectory carried her awkwardly into the roof ledge of the next building.

Renji winced at the sight of the crushing impact the woman's body made with the concrete edge.

A hand slicked with blood and rainwater groped feebly for a purchase on the ledge, but the frantic effort proved to be futile. Gravity pulled her into the alley below. A muffled resonance of flesh and bone upon metal melded with the gentle whisper of falling rain, before a final thud sounded from the darkness below.

The tattooed soul reaper closed the distance between himself and the maw below within moments. Silently he leapt down to where the woman lay crumpled. He knelt by her, rain leaving trails down his face and neck as he lent over her.

Ragged breath ripped its way from her lungs as she lay crumpled upon the glistening pavement.

His hand touched a shoulder, now bare courteousy of the blade of her arrancar adversary from before, but pulled it back when she pressed her hands to the ground beneath.

Slowly, she began to heave herself upright.

"I'd stay down, if I were you." He shook his head, and pointed to the ground when her dark gaze snapped to his at his rough baritone. The glare she shot him brought a smirk to his lips, and he easily deflected the clumsy punch thrown at him. "Sorry about this, girl, but it's for your own good." His own fist impacted precisely with her jaw. Finally, she fell back, out cold before the water she fell in could splash upon impact.

By the time the others touched down, he had carefully gathered their injured adversary into his arms. Her cheek rested upon his soaked shoulder, bloodied right hand resting on her stomach, while rainwater dropped off the fingertips of the left, which hung limply at her side. There was no sign of the nasty claws she'd used before. Those battered wings made the simple act far more complicated than he thought they would.

Ichigo wiped at the water dripping into his eyes as he watched the two. The sodden front of his gi sagged with the four ragged gashes her claws had rendered, exposing a peek of his red-streaked chest. "Looks like you got her." Chocolate eyes widened upon falling on her unconscious features. "...she's not much older than I am."

The red-headed reaper shifted her in his arms, angling his head to get a closer look at the young woman's face. Relaxed, her features were indeed startlingly young – indeed Ichigo's age, if not a couple of years older. The glint of buffed metal caught his eye. "What's that around her neck?"

Rukia pulled the chain from the girl's ripped collar, then drew close enough to loop it up over her head, and off, before carefully resting the slack cheek back against her friend's shoulder. Hanging from the chain were two flattened pieces of metal; foreign characters stamped into them. With a frown, she glanced up at her friends, drudging up a vague memory from some war movie Ichigo made her watch. "Are these dog tags?" Blue eyes narrowed, she turned them over in her fingers.

"Yeah," Ichigo took them from her, "but what kinda name is this?" He squinted at the characters, and shook his head. The first word was made up of romanji letters, while the second rounded character he vaguely recognized from glimpses at Uryu's advanced math homework and the third were simple numbers. "'Gladius'", the word was awkward on his tongue, "and…I think that's some Greek thing? And '309'? The hell...?"

His petite friend reclaimed the strange ID and tucked it into her water-heavy shihakusho before glancing up at the two men. "Let's get back to Urahara's. We'll get it sorted out there."

* * *

Socks.

For some strange reason, Urahara had a ridiculous number of socks in need of repair. Not only one particular kind of socks, either. Men's socks, women's socks, children's socks.

The man didn't even wear socks, as far as Uryu had ever seen, and yet he found himself sitting in one of the back rooms of the candy shop, mending a ridiculous amount of footwear when well enough not to need sleep or healing. Was Yoruichi bringing them in off the street while in her cat form?

Knowing the demented shopkeeper, he was probably just putting the hapless young man through his darning paces as some form of warped training.

Or maybe this was just some bizarre form of torture.

This is Urahara, after all. It could be anything.

"If this is for some warped puppet show or something, these things are getting sewn to his damn hands," the erstwhile tailor muttered to himself as he cut a thread after finishing yet another piece of particularly girlish hosiery – pink with lace around the cuff. At least it kept his mind off of the uncertainty of the current predicament. His lungs really weren't getting any better, and while the healings Orihime and Tessai did for him helped, they weren't a long term fix, and they all knew it. Urahara still hadn't found anything that would help, so it was only a matter of time before…

"Did you say something?" Rang a cheerful voice from the doorway, effectively cutting off the mood Uryu was sinking into. There stood the very object of the Quincy's contemplations. He held his hands behind his back, and his patented pseudo-innocent grin plastered itself over his deceptive features. "I didn't quite catch that."

"…nothing." The young man eyed him suspiciously, "What do you have there?"

"Hm? Oh, you mean this?" The exile drew his arm out from behind his back with a flourish.

Uryu braced himself for yet more hosiery, but instead found himself blinking at the mangled remains of…something made of black, battered fabric. "Kisuke, what in the world is that?"

"Well," the man took a seat next to him, "this is what our newest guest was wearing when she arrived."

Uryu shot him an incredulous look as he took the shredded garment and held it up. The midsection was completely gone, as was the collar, one of the shoulders, parts of the sleeves, and legs. The remaining tattered fabric was growing stiff with blood as it dried. "…and she's still alive?"

"Oh, she's a little banged up, but she's still breathing." Kisuke paused, mirthful grin again alighting his face. "So, can you fix it?"

That only earned the shopkeeper a dry look before the young man returned his gaze to the destroyed cloth. His brows furrowed as he examined the remaining design. "It looks like something was wired into this." Slender fingers found one of the many breaks in one of the seams along what was the remaining shoulder, and pulled out a fraction of cable.

Kisuke took the cable from him, and examined it with narrowed eyes – all sense of mirth suddenly gone. "Interesting…it looks like she has quite a bit to tell us."

"Has she said anything yet?"

The ex-reaper shook his head. "She still hasn't gained consciousness."

The brunette frowned. "Did you find anything else on her?"

Urahara tucked the wire into a sleeve. "Dog-tags, a few things in the pockets…nothing else."

Uryu didn't look up from his examination, fingering the ripped collar of the garment. "I see." He frowned, then raised his gaze after a few minutes. "I'd like to speak with her when she wakes up."

The man nodded, then stood once the young man returned the mangled fabric. "Of course." He turned to leave, but stopped and turned at the sound of Ishida clearing his throat.

He just had to ask, "Why all the socks?"

That shit-eating grin lit up Kisuke's face once again, and he waved his omnipresent fan at the Quincy, "Oh, I figured you would like something to do while you were on the mend, and I knew it couldn't be anything stressful, so I had the others bring their mending for you to work on."

If looks could kill. "…WHAT."

Satisfied, the shopkeeper again turned towards the doorway, and glanced over his shoulder. "I don't know what Chad does to his boxers, but that's next on your to do list."

The Quincy's irritated shout was cut off by a coughing fit. He _really_ needed to get Kisuke back for this.

* * *

**Just a couple of changes in the spacing and wording in a few spots. As always, reviews are appreciated!**


	6. Chapter 6

A sable tail twitched against the soft fabric of the sheet draped over the winged woman's stomach. Golden eyes watched the slumbering face from the small cat's careful perch on her chest.

She still hadn't woken up, but the fluxuation in her reiatsu lead them to believe it would be happening soon. While her spiritual pressure was weak when Abarai had carried her in, it had been far easier to sense than in encounters previous. After Uryu had found that wiring in her ruined attire, Kisuke had speculated that perhaps there was a device of some kind built into the strange uniform to repress her natural energy output. If that was the case, then it must have been destroyed in that last battle.

The strange arrancar's appearance was troubling, as well – those in Hueco Mundo must have noticed the strange disappearances as much as the Reapers had and sent him to take stock of the situation. Yoruichi Shihoin did not like the implications of that in the least.

In any case, Renji had since been sent back to the Soul Society to deliver his report, as well as samples of the powder from Uryu's jacket and blood from the creature herself. They were awaiting Mayuri's findings, but at least Urahara had begun making discoveries regarding the substance plaguing the young Quincy. Infuriatingly, however, he refused to say just what those were, nor if they were likely to help find an antidote.

An irritated ear flicked.

Still, it was a frustratingly slow process, and the recent quiet had been somewhat foreboding. Yoruichi half hoped something _would_ happen, if at least to alleviate some of the feelings of uselessness.

So the young winged woman was laid out on a futon, for now, down in the massive training grounds of all places, a thin blanket draped over her slumbering form. The ruined black jumpsuit had been replaced with a modified white wrap-around top and gi pants, which stopped mid-shin – allowing easy access to wounds still in need of monitoring. The erstwhile feline and the rest had decided to set up a small area in the massive underground chamber for the logistical advantage of disorienting the warrioress upon waking. They were gambling that throwing the fighter off balance enough from the start would shake reluctant information from her more quickly.

Curiously, the cat leaned closer to the sleeping face – now nose to nose with her. Despite the injuries she'd acquired, the girl had healed with startling speed. While her skin still held the ashen tone of a stressed body, the swelling and cuts still there the day before had smoothed themselves away as if they'd never been there to begin with.

With her eyes closed, the young woman looked perfectly human, if one ignored the carefully positioned wings, and almost absurdly young. The red in the otherwise sable hair could very easily be dyed, though Yoruichi doubted it was, but it still gave the effect of a teenage girl rebelling against the status quo. Its short cut, just long enough to cover the tips of her slightly pointed ears, and fall into her slumbering eyes, only added to the image.

Feline eyes blinked in answer to the fluttering of the inhuman's eyes. Once the blackened sclera and irises appeared and the bright green pupils at last focused with a slight start on Yoruichi's, the woman in cat-clothing twitched her tail and grinned internally. "Good morning," her manly voice greeted.

The young woman gawked.

A deep chuckled issued from the feline throat just before she hopped from her perch as the dumbfounded woman shoved herself back off the futon, then scrambled away from the cat.

Words strangled in her throat as the unexpected pain from her remaining injuries hit her. Despite the fact she'd curled around herself in reaction, the girl cut off the verbalization and continued to watch the cat for several moments.

After silently determining the strange, talking animal wasn't an immediate threat, the young woman slowly rose to her feet, and took a look at the surroundings. Sable brows furrowed as she gazed up at the pseudo sky, and the inhuman eyes took up their bright green glow.

Quiet paws padded their way to the woman's side, and the cat tilted her head up to the humanoid. There was a strange sort of flow to the reiatsu emitting from their guest. It held an interesting otherworldly tingle to it, which only intensified when that glow lit up. "So, does the world look different when you do that?"

Leathery wings flared slightly in edgy surprise, as the woman looked down at the cat's words with those luminous eyes. Reflexively, she hopped back with a startled exclamation. Watching the feline warily, she backed away - bare feet stumbling slightly in the sand. She uttered a string of astounded sounding words in a language Yoruichi vaguely recognized, though didn't understand.

From the sudden spike in energy, apparently the glow did indeed change her perceptions.

"Well, that answers that. I get the feeling my cover is about to be blown anyway, so…" Before the stunned gaze of the other woman, the cat unfolded into Yoruichi's natural, chocolate skinned human form.

It looked as if hysterics wanted to bubble up in the injured girl's chest at the sudden sight of the naked woman. Before any laughter, or tears for that matter, could break free, she visibly calmed her expression. The muscles lining her body tensed subtly, and Kisuke, who had been watching the exchange from a slight distance, knew it was time to make his entrance.

"Now, Yoruichi, are you traumatizing this sweet young girl already?" The shop keeper shot the ladies his most charming smile and tipped his hat at the stranger's abrupt pivot.

"Only introducing myself, Kisuke." The nude woman returned the grin before returning her gaze to the girl, who again looked as if she was ready to bolt.

Urahara only chuckled and shook his head. "Put some clothing on; Uryu's coming down soon." As the woman turned to depart with a shrug and a laugh, he cautiously made his way closer to the uncertain young woman.

Her gaze had flickered between the two while they were talking, before it settled on the man. She stepped back at his first step, then again when he continued to advance. The look she shot him was definitely a warning, as she brought her hands defensively up before herself.

"Tsk, now, now, there's no need to fight," he murmured to her, grey eyes watching her measuringly from the shadowed confines of his hat.

Apparently, she felt the same way, since as soon as he stopped, she'd backed further away, and had turned to run – to where neither knew. Judging from the gasp ripping itself from her mouth when she came face to chest with Uryu, she wasn't expecting the Quincy to be there.

Kisuke wondered if her senses were thrown off when the effects of adrenalin and whatever was repressing her reiatsu wore off. For now, though, the shopkeeper rested his hands on the handle of his sealed zanpakto contently and watched the interaction unfolding between the two young people.

* * *

This had been without a doubt the single weirdest morning she'd ever experienced.

That cat had startled her just the close proximity when she came to in the strange lifeless desert, but when it talked, then later turned into a woman, she really began to question her sanity.

Then, when the strange man in the green and black clothing, which the calmer corner of her mind noted bore a very similar design to the white version she found herself in, and bucket hat appeared, her heart had leapt into her throat. She was in no condition to put up a fight against these two, and she knew it. It had appeared he was content to let her go, however. Unfortunately, when she'd finally turned, the winged woman found herself staring right into the chest of the young archer from before.

Slowly, she raised her eyes from the buttons of his neat shirt, only to rest on the midnight blue of his eyes. Her own blinked when she felt his hands press to her upper arms to steady her. She took a soft breath and stepped back a little from him.

He calmly glanced up at the man behind her, then back to her and said something in Japanese.

The girl was about to say something, when a familiar scent caught her attention. The young man started back when she went up on her tip-toes and leaned her face in closely to his, as if for a sudden kiss. Her lips stopped just shy of his, and instead of making contact, she breathed in his startled exhale.

Yeah, there it was.

That same strange smell the lab people had had her inhale several months ago – acrid and burning. In this case, though, it was extremely diluted. The disturbing memory of her lungs shutting down on her, then the long recovery and subsequent re-exposures rushed back to her. How had he been exposed?

The boy was frozen, staring uncertainly down into her strange, somehow immeasurably sad eyes. This was obviously not a situation he'd expected to find himself in - the feel of her toned arms under his hands, her mouth barely an inch away and being - of all things - sniffed. "…um…"

"Did they get you?" Her low voice reflected deep seated tension. It wasn't a question she'd even meant to ask, but there was something about this young man that tugged at her. The entire situation had thrown her horribly off kilter. It felt as if some unnamed thing had come loose, and she wasn't exactly sure of how to handle it all.

Those intense eyes blinked at the utterance. A pause passed between them, before he looked up at the other man, exchange a few quick words his native tongue, before looking back to her. His brow knit behind the glasses, and she could see he was thinking something over before he finally spoke again with a heavy accent, "Who got me…?"

Black eyes widened with surprise, and her hands slipped up between their bodies to press against his chest. Relief colored her words, "You speak English?"

He shook his head. "No. Only little."

She blew out a disappointed sigh and stepped back with a slight nod – only now realizing how long they had remained in such close proximity. The pink which had spread along the boy's cheeks didn't go unnoticed, but she let it go without mention. "Well…you speak more English than I do Japanese."

He shook his head, obviously not understanding all of that. "Sorry."

She rubbed her arms, then nodded to him. "It's ok." She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, thinking on how to communicate what she had to ask. After a moment, she looked back up to him. "You sick?" To illustrate, she pointed to him, then covered a mock cough.

Blue eyes blinked, and he nodded.

Her stomach dropped. "For how long?"

Several moments passed as he worked on translating that. Upon reaching a result he was satisfied with, he frowned, knelt down, and sketched a crude skyline of the city, then a cloud with two stick figures in the sand at their feet. He then pointed an accusing finger at her when she knelt by him.

"What??" Her gaze snapped up at him, her voice rising a little with surprise. "Those were just supposed to be smoke-bombs…" She looked back to the drawing and cursed darkly under her breath, "Crap…bastards." A slender hand reached out to touch his. "I'm sorry."

He gave her a slightly startled look, before shrugging, and erasing the crude drawings with the palm of his hand.

A fang peeked out briefly as she bit her lip and looked up at him. "Who's…the…" She sighed, hoping he understood at least the concept. Charades weren't exactly her strong suite. "Doctor? Healer?"

The young man lifted his hand to point to the silent man, who took this as his cue to move closer.

She nodded a little and stood. When he drew near, she lifted her right arm, the underside of her wrist pointed up. The tip of her left hand's pointer finger tapped the pulse point. "My blood might help."

The two men watched her, puzzled, before understanding dawned in the older man's eyes. He gave the younger what sounded like an order, before turning and striding off across the sandy expanse, presumably for supplies of some kind.

Her gaze was pulled from his retreating back when the younger man covered a cough with one hand, and tapped her shoulder with the other.

"I am Uryu Ishida," he commented after clearing his throat.

"Oh, uh…" Introductions are always awkward when one doesn't really have a name. Her classification was too complicated to explain, so she supposed she would just have to settle. "Just…call me Meg."

* * *

**Thanks so much for the reviews. They definately help spur me on with writing this. :)**


	7. Chapter 7

Ukitake wasn't entirely sure of what to expect from this meeting. When it came to anything involving Urahara Kisuke, the white-haired captain knew better than to put much thought into any expectations outside of the unexpected. This time was no different.

When word had finally reached the seireitei of the young hunter's capture, then her subsequent awakening and the events immediately following it, an emergency captain's meeting had been called in order to determine a course of action. Upon discovering the sizeable gap in languages, it had become apparent that a proper translator needed to be found – especially considering the delicate nature of the situation.

There were only three captains who had much understanding of the English language – Mayuri, Shunsui and himself - but only two who were fluent – himself and Shunsui.

He and his old friend shared a certain fascination with the written word, after all. That interest did not stop with Japanese, as they both found beauty in all languages they were fortunate enough to happen across.

Based upon their personalities, and what little had been observed of the young captives, however, Jyuushiro was chosen as the more ideal candidate. Kurotsuchi had wanted to accompany the elder captain to meet this strange new being, but as his squad was still busily working away at the samples and research being done into this being, it was determined he stay in the Soul Society.

Ukitake was glad of that. While the man had a brilliant mind, he was one of the most disturbing individuals the serene captain had ever run across in all of his many years. There was also a very good chance that the young woman would react poorly to the sight of the painted captain.

It was practically a certainty, actually, given her reaction to Yoruichi's 'teasing'.

So, here the captain of the 13th squad sat. Patiently, he waited for the young woman to be brought in, situated at a low table in the sitting room of Urahara's shop. Calmly, he lifted his cup of tea to his lips, and savored the delicate, soothing warmth of the brew. Little Ururu had a knack for teas, it seemed.

Finally, the door was darkened by the massive shadow of Tessai, who bore the winged woman in his muscled arms. The shinigami arched his brows at her unconscious state, "Is she alright?"

"She just needed a nap. We can't have our little guest grow exhausted, now, can we?" The shopkeeper asked of the captain as he stepped into the room and slid the door closed.

Jyuushiro only shook his head. Typical Kisuke.

The aproned man carefully settled the unconscious woman opposite Ukitake. Urahara knelt on her other side, and slipped one arm around her shoulders. The other hand pressed bracingly to her stomach, so she remained in a sitting position, albeit slumped back against him, while Tessai touched a fingertip to her brow.

Instantly, freakish eyes snapped open, and her body jolted within Urahara's grip.

Ukitake watched with fascination as the glow lit from deep within the inky depths, and her startled gaze swept the room in an attempt to orient herself. Upon noting her proximity to Kisuke – not to mention the cheeky grin he was wearing – she flinched away, then shot both him and Tessai glares quite eloquent in their irritation.

Despite the fierceness in her eyes, however, she made no move to cause either of them harm.

Interesting.

That look however, was enough for Urahara to withdraw his embrace, and sit behind her, a little to the left. Tessai flanked her right. Finally, those unsettling eyes rested upon the white-haired captain.

Easily, he caught her gaze with his own, and offered his famous smile. "Greetings, Miss Meg. I am Captain Jyuushiro Ukitake."

Her spine stiffened in a reflex to be at attention upon hearing the title, but still, the intent onyx gaze stayed upon him. Apparently, she wasn't entirely sure of what to expect, either. "…hello, sir."

With deft hands, Ukitake poured another cup of tea and offered it. When she accepted, albeit slightly awkwardly, he brought his own to his lips again, and took a sip. Deep honeyed eyes watched her closely as she mirrored him. "I trust your injuries are healing?"

Leathery wings adjusted subtly against the tense back, and the cup of tea was gently set on the table before her. "Yes, sir. Thank you for asking."

"Good," he returned his cup to the table as well, and leaned forward slightly. "Meg, what do you know of Hollows?"

She shook her head, and gave him an odd look. "…hollows? Ah…only that they sound rather, um…empty?"

Ukitake's soft chuckle warmed the air. "I'm sorry. Hollows are those creatures you were hunting."

"Oh," she laced her fingers together in her lap, "not much. Only that most people can't seem to see them, and they can do a great deal of damage." A pause. "And that it hurts when they hit you." Another pause, before her smooth voice again lifted. "A lot."

"Hm." Amusement tugged the corners of his lips up. "That it does. So why were you hunting them?"

Silence fell upon them as she contemplated on just how to answer that.

Despite the fact that her captors have treated her far better than she would have expected from anyone, she was still their prisoner. As far as she knew, they were still enemies, despite the odd instinct to trust them. In addition, while she did have some ideas on why the higher ups wanted the strange, selectively invisible beasts, she didn't feel quite ready to divulge those thoughts just yet. "I was ordered to."

"By who?" There was no irritation in the calm voice, only civil curiousity.

Meg knew better than to trust the surface impressions with anyone in a position of power – especially the seemingly kind ones. "My commanders."

A startlingly dark brow arched as the man opposite her reached into one of his sleeves to pull out one of the two dog tags taken upon her capture. "I see." He put the piece of metal on the table and slid it over to her. "This was found on you when you were brought in. My apologies, but this does not look like regular identification. Which military are you with?"

Once his fingers had left the tab, she slid it off the edge of the table, and looked over the familiar characters. A hint of sadness entered her eyes as her brows furrowed slightly. "I'm…sort of a mercenary. Kind of."

Hazel eyes grew stern as he leaned forward, "How can one be 'sort of' a mercenary?"

The corners of her lips turned down in a slight frown, and she looked back up to him contemplatively, "This says 'Gladius Omega 309'. Were your people able to translate what that first word is?"

The captain blinked, then nodded. "It's Latin for 'sword'."

Quietly, she set the tab back down on the smooth surface of the table. Tapered fingers pressed against the cool metal. "That's what I am. A sword. A weapon." Meg returned her hands to her lap, and her solemn gaze to his. "I'm a mercenary in that I am commissioned to carry out assignments. I am not a mercenary in that I have no control over which assignments I carry out."

The pause between them was pregnant. She watched the white haired captain proccess this new information. The sick feeling of knowing she'd said too much coiled in her belly.

Finally, his soft voice broke the silence, "You may have more control than you think." He held a hand up to belay her objection. "We can speak more on that later. However, we need to know who you're working for, now."

Her gaze fell from his, only to rest on the teapot on the table between them. "I honestly don't know. I'm never given names, unless it suites those using me."

His sharp gaze watched her measuringly, before he simply nodded. "Of course." He considered her for a few moments longer. Instinct borne of countless years experience told him she wasn't about to volunteer much more information tonight. "Do you have any questions?"

Slowly, she again raised her eyes, uncertainly this time. "…why are you people so interested in the mons…er…Hollows?"

Brown eyes lost their peircing quality, in favor of a softer, more understanding tone. "Ah, that does require some explanation. Best left for another day, perhaps. Suffice to say, we are balancers, and the Hollow play an important role in that balance."

Almost birdlike, she subtly tilted her head. "Balancers of what?"

"Life and death." Casually, he lifted his tea to his lips.

Her brows shot up. "…what exactly are you?"

His smile was warm, but the subtle flash in his eyes was a reminder of who had the upper hand. "A simple man doing an important job."

Properly warned, she nodded. That was fair. She was the intruder on their turf, after all, and she was now in their hands. When she spoke again, her soft voice held a note of apology. "May I ask something else?"

"Of course." His tone spoke of forgiveness.

A breath was drawn in. Worry entered her gaze at the memory of the fascinating young archer. "How is Uryu? I've not seen him for a few days. Was an antidote pulled from my blood?"

Ukitake smiled again, this time it was colored with compassion. "He is recovering. Urahara Kisuke was able to administer the cure for the toxin, and the young man is simply needs a great deal of rest."

Meg sighed, her shoulders visibly releasing a bit of tension. "Good. I honestly didn't want to hurt him in the first place." She remembered the small, dark-haired woman as well, who had already taken a turn guarding her in the strange not-desert in the time between her awakening and being taken to this room for this conversation. "Either of them."

"Yes," his voice was gentle, his eyes contemplative as they watched the young woman across from him. It appeared there was quite a bit for them all to learn from this experience. "Yes, I can see that."

She glanced up at him at that, then bowed her head and spoke no more.

* * *

**Thank you guys so much for the reviews and keeping up with this story. They really make my day, and I hope the story stays interesting for you!**


	8. Chapter 8

Jyuushiro hadn't exactly lied when he'd told Meg that Uryu was recovering. However, he hadn't been completely honest, either.

Quietly, the white haired captain tapped on the door to the room the Quincy was resting in, and stepped in at the quiet bid to enter.

Ordinarily, Orihime or Tessai would be attending to the young man, but he'd requested to bring dinner after he'd translated the exchange from that morning. A rough draft in need of editing rested on the desk in the room he was given, next to the recorder holding the spoken words themselves. Only Kisuke had seen it upon request, but anything further would wait until later.

Before him, he found Uryu sitting up on the mat rolled out on the floor for him, blankets draped over his legs. Ukitake could already hear the improvement in the young man's breathing. A subtle rasp deep within the young man's chest stubbornly lingered, however. It was a feeling Ukitake knew all too well. The brow over which ebon hair fell was pale, although his cheeks were flushed, and the blue eyes behind the omnipresent glasses were slightly glassy.

True, the antidote was slowly, steadily improving his breathing, but the side effects included a frighteningly high fever along with the attendant aches and weariness. The young man's powerful will kept him from complaining, but his suffering was evident to anyone who happened to lay eyes upon him. Kisuke had said that the antidote should only take about a week to obliterate the toxin. His words proved to be small comfort when it came to staring into the face of such suffering.

"Good evening, Uryu," the shinigami offered a sympathetic smile as he knelt by the young man. He set the tray of food down by him. "How are you feeling?"

There was a pause as blue eyes too tired to register much surprise regarded him. "I've been better. Captain Ukitake…it's good to see you. What's the occasion?"

"A translator was needed, so here I am." He motioned to the food with an elegant hand, "You also need dinner, so here it is as well."

A feint grin curled the boy's lips as he reached down to carefully start in on the food.

Satisfied, Ukitake sat back and observed as the youthful Quincy ate. "Your winged friend asked about you."

Ishida paused and arched a brow. "Oh?"

"She was worried."

"Heh," there was silence for a few moments as the ill man worked on the small breakfast. Tiny winces slipped past his guard without his notice – signals of a spiking fever. Still, he only lifted his tea to his lips and looked up to the other's dark eyes. "What did you tell her?"

"That you were recovering and needed your rest." Jyuushiro frowned, then pressed a gentle hand to Uryu's brow. Sure, enough, the dry skin was entirely too warm to the touch. He poured more tea.

The young man smirked wryly. "Well…that's not _too_ far from the truth."

They both looked up when the door opened again to admit a startlingly sober Urahara. "Hello, gentlemen. How are you feeling, Uryu?"

The fevered blue eyes carefully watched the shadowed grey of the shopkeeper's. "The same as when you asked half an hour ago."

Kisuke nodded, "I see you've eaten. Good." He knelt to gather the tray laden with empty dishes himself. "Tessai will be in shortly to give you your next dose." Sharp eyes took a closer look at the young man's coloring. "And a cool compress for your fever, of course."

Ishida repressed a cringe and tried to concentrate on how his breathing was getting easier, instead of the nasty side effects of the cure itself. "Ok."

"For now," the green and black clad man continued, "get some more sleep. It looks like you could use it." He glanced at the white-haired captain, "Jyuushiro, can I have a moment of your time?"

Startled, Ukitake nodded, then glanced back at the sick young man settling back in. He patted his shoulder gently. "Speedy recovery, my friend." At Uryu's nod, he stood to follow Urahara out of the room.

Once the door was securely closed, the shopkeeper glanced up at the taller man. "I've decided to put our guest through her paces. To see what she can do, if you will."

A dark brow rose. "…oh? You do realize she's still injured, don't you?"

Kisuke shook his head, "She's mostly healed. Enough for a little sparring, anyway."

The captain shot the shopkeeper a knowing look. "What happened, Kisuke? Why the rush?"

A hand came up to tilt the striped hat further down over his face. "We need to know what she's capable of before her keepers come looking for her. We've never seen her in action on the battlefield, outside of running from us. Whether she trusts us yet or not, we still need to know what we have on our hands." He glanced up from under the rim of his hat. "That arrancar from before has been sighted as well, this time with a friend. We believe they're looking for her."

The white haired man nodded consideringly. "I see."

"I'd like you to observe."

Contemplative brown eyes watched the exiled man for several moments before he nodded. "Alright. You do know, of course, that this will make gaining her trust even more difficult."

"That's why I asked you there. Damage control." Urahara finally broke out in a familiar, sharp grin. "In any case, it should be quite a show."

* * *

It had to have been several hours since she'd been awakened at the hands of the large, mustached man. Time was so immaterial in this strange place. The sun never set, nor did it rise. For that matter, while the air circulated, there were never the odd little eddies and swirls to tickle the skin in even the most arid of environments.

She slept when her body desired, awoke when needed, and ate when food was brought down. Her days have been spent in constant companionship with one or two of the people who seemed to reside here. They watched her in shifts, and while they'd occasionally try to communicate, with varying results, it was proving to be a strangely solitary existence.

At the moment, she was perched atop one of the outcroppings of rock, casting her glowing gaze along the chamber. Renji sat at her side, obviously bored out of his mind. They'd tried conversing by way of gestures and small, awkward words at one point, but it never got anywhere, so they lapsed into silence.

At least they'd managed to exchange names, miracle of miracles.

She was still learning to read all of these strange patterns she now sees. They had actually always been there, starting shortly after her eyes had changed from the icy blue of her youth, but they were subtle, almost invisible even when she concentrated. It was only after she'd been captured and brought here that they became so vivid.

They were ethereal colors whispering between the physical things of the world – especially vibrant around living things, less so around inanimate. It looked like they were affected by people and things, as well. They flowed like water, and the currents ran faster or slower depending on what was going on in the area.

Her bright gaze was turned to the silent man at her side.

These 'balancers', as she'd started calling them in her head since her conversation with the strong but kind captain, seemed to have some strange sort of bond with their weapons. It looked like a constant loop between balancer and blade. The blade itself seemed to have a life of its own, which was slightly unnerving in and of itself.

Renji felt her gaze on him, and returned her look, unease alighting in his fiery eyes at seeing her own.

Meg grinned sheepishly at him, though the sight of her fangs sent a visible shiver down his back. She sighed, and lay back, folding her hands behind her head and carefully adjusting her wings into a more comfortable position, though not intrusive to the man beside her.

She blinked, as suddenly she was looking up at the grinning shopkeeper standing over her. Her eyes slipped to Renji as the two exchanged words, before the red-head shot them a casual salute in farewell and leapt down to wander off to wherever the invisible exit was.

She would have dearly liked to have known where the thing was. The changing of the guard always prevented her from following the departing party to find out.

Again, she blinked in surprise as that grin suddenly disappeared, and the cane the man held transformed itself into a double edged, straight sword with a bent hilt and no guard.

"What?!" She slipped out of the way just in time to avoid the blade's contact with her face and bolted into the air.

Unexpectedly, he followed with a flurry of skilled attacks. She'd managed to dodge most of them, but the last few forced her claws out to deflect them.

Yet, he kept coming at her – that maddening grin was back.

_This_ was the same man who silently teased her upon waking in the sitting room this morning? What was going on?

Simple self-preservation gave way to outright survival instinct after another blow rent a shallow gash on the outside curve of her left wing. She doubled back and briefly examined the glow circulating about him and that horribly beautiful blade of his – searching for a weakness. This man was very powerful, very skilled, and as she deduced from her silent observations of him, very intelligent.

Her fangs bared themselves in a determined snarl as she bulleted at him, folding her wings tightly against her back to minimize air-friction, one hand stretched out before her.

As she'd hoped, he moved to counter the attack aimed at his face with his blade impacting with the talons which extended from her fingertips. She used the temporary distraction to twist in the air and follow up with a slice to his ribs with her other hand while he was still following through. Fabric ripped, but skin remained unharmed.

Was he playing with her?

Freakish eyes widened slightly as she traced the lingering trail of color he left behind – vibrant reds mixed with a broad spectrum of greens. She spun to block his blow from behind, and found herself plummeting to the earth below. Dust rose with her impact, and she lifted her hands in feeble defense against the scarlet burst flying her way – attended by a shriek not unlike that of a rocket ascending into the sky.

The impact never came. She found herself staring up at the white jacket and hair of the captain from before. The crimson had been swatted aside by an incredible electric blue.

She lay there, gasping for breath, and wincing in pain at the abused injuries as the two men exchanged words.

Shortly, the shopkeeper's sword disappeared again into his customary cane. The man extended a hand to her in the universal offer to assist her to stand.

The woman only shook her head and eyed him suspiciously as she scooted back away from him, then hauled herself to her feet, holding her side.

The shopkeeper merely shrugged, tipped his hat to her, and jauntily strode off – leaving her standing there, stunned and distrustful from the brief battle, behind Captain Ukitake.

**Enjoy the chapter! As always, feedback is always appreciated. Very many thanks go out to Haddrell and Akira Nishikawa. :) I didn't **_**think**_** I made Kisuke too far out of character, what with how I'd seen him operate in the past.**

**A little minor editing complete on this chapter. Should read a little more smoothly now. **


	9. Chapter 9

It had taken the captain some time to convince her to allow him close enough to tend to her new wounds and check the old ones.

Kisuke had been right, at least, in that the old injuries were nearly healed. While they were indeed aggravated by the sudden activity, they hadn't reopened at all. This girl's healing abilities were a true marvel. Any discoveries made from the samples taken earlier would be very interesting indeed.

Getting more than a few words out of her was an even greater challenge, however. Although he had been the one to deflect that final blast from Benihime, her tenuous trust in him had been broken.

This young woman had seen entirely too much of the darker side of the world in her few years in this lifetime not to realize his alliance with Kisuke. All three of them knew she would have survived the strike, though she would have been further hurt. Had she been at full strength, there was no doubt that she would have dodged it with relative ease. The technique and adaptability she showed during the brief skirmish was enough to show she really was quite a fighter – more than that, quite a survivor.

Captain Ukitake still felt the need to sweep the attack aside before impact, however.

Damage greater than the slight gash upon her wing would likely widen the rift within their already shaky alliance. Jyushiro knew he could heal what was done tonight, but he doubted he would have been able to if that blow had been allowed to land.

Still, after a great deal of persuasion, and a little explanation behind Urahara's motives, the two had settled with their backs against one of the massive rock formations speckling the convincing artificial landscape. She still hadn't made eye-contact with him, but at least he was finally allowed within arms' reach.

"Captain Ukitake?" Surprisingly, her soft voice was the first to break the slightly uneasy silence, a symphony of hesitant curiosity in its gentle tone.

"Hm?" He glanced over at the quiet words.

The young woman's head was tilted back slightly, her eyes closed. She was not at complete ease however – her lips turned down in a frown, and her brows were knit. "Can I ask you a question?" Those impossible eyes cracked open a fraction and the green pupil peered at him from the slits.

Ordinarily warm brown eyes watched her carefully, contemplatively. "Only if I may ask you one in return."

That was enough for her eyes to widen to their usual state. A mildly amused grin curled her mouth briefly, though it vanished after a scant few moments. "I…" Meg breathed out a soft breath and flattened the soles of her bare feet on the earth beneath them, dug her toes unconsiously into the sand, and rested her forearms on the upraised knees. Her hands, destructive claws sheathed within, hung relaxed before her. "I guess that's fair."

A small smile lit upon his features. "Ask away then."

She was silent for a little while, as she contemplated how to phrase the question. "I…know that you're balancers, but…I…don't think you're human. I…don't really think you're even from here. So…where do you come from?" Her lip was bit before she could ask any of the other questions roiling just beneath the surface.

His chuckle brought a slight cough to the surface. She started a little, and shot him a concerned look. Even his mild coughs held an unnerving rattling deep within his chest, after all. He reassuringly waved the worry away – it was something he was used to, even if it was something he cared little for.

"You're very observant, Meg." He smiled warmly. "No…we are not human, nor are we from this world. We are from a place called the Soul Society. We come here to help those who have died to pass on and to help the Hollows do the same. This is part of how we maintain that balance I told you about." He watched as she absorbed this information. There was no real surprise in her expression, but she did seem to be thinking it over. Her eyes were distant, though they did drift back to him when he spoke again. "And where are you from?"

There was a brief pause, before she replied, "The United States originally…heh." Her gaze met his, oddly embarrassed. "Deep under Washington, DC, or so I've been told."

The captain nodded, "Do you have family?"

"Heh," she shook her head sadly, "No…I was created in a lab." She rushed on, before he could comment on that. Obviously, that was not a topic she wanted to pursue right at the moment. "You?"

That reminded him of Nemu, Kurotsuchi's 'daughter'. The pale captain recognized the same subtle sadness he'd watched in the lieutenant's eyes from time to time alight in Meg's. Still, in consideration to her, he refrained from comment. "Five brothers and two sisters."

Her shoulders relaxed and she blinked. "Big family. Is that common in the Soul Society?"

He shrugged, watching her posture loosen. Idly, Ukitake wondered if her back bothered her, what with the overuse from the wings and the tension she seemed to carry there.

"Not particularly. Most families in the Soul Society are comprised of adopted children, not of children born of parents. There are exceptions, but…it can get complicated." At her confused look, he offered an amused smile, and a change of subject. "Your eyes…what do you see when they glow?"

Her hands flexed, before she drew her knees close to her chest, her wings arching protectively around herself at the question. "I…don't really know. Color and light that aren't there otherwise…"

He turned to face her more fully, shifting to sit in seza, and pressed a gentle hand to the wing partially shielding her from his view. The warm, leathery flesh under his palm withdrew at the contact, as always seemed to happen when those particular limbs were touched. He waited until her uncomfortable gaze met with his again before speaking. "Is this new to you?"

Brows furrowed, she nodded. "For the most part." The youth cut herself off, before hesitantly beginning again. "It…had happened before," She frowned and bowed her head, "Ever since my eyes first changed, but they were never as bright as they are here."

Quietly, he nodded as he examined her pose. The peaceful reaper was sorely tempted to ask about the change, but judged that now would not be the ideal time for that particular line of questioning. Instead, putting a thought ruminating within his mind into action might be better. "May I try something?"

Uncertainly, she straightened, tucked the wings neatly behind her and watched him silently. She then shifted so she too was sitting upon her feet in a mirror of his seza. "…um…sure?"

His small smile was reassuring. "Light your eyes…"

Once the green glow was there again, he held a hand out, fingers closed, save for his extended pointer and middle, towards the emptiness before them. His other hand drew his sleeve back towards his elbow to expose his forearm before it rested on the muscle there. "Watch my hand and arm, then tell me what you see."

At her silent nod, he incanted, "Hadou no Yon: Byakurai." The level of energy put into the attack was intentionally kept extremely low, so as not to do inadvertently damage to her eyes.

None-the-less, she visibly jolted as the attack flew harmlessly off into the distance.

"I…wh…what was that?" She rubbed her eyes with a slightly shaky hand before looking back to him, glow gone, and body tense. At seeing his expectant expression, she ducked her head slightly. Only then did she remember his instruction. "I saw…tendrils of white light crawl up your forearm, and they gathered at your fingertips in a…kind of ball, I guess, just before you said…whatever you said. Then it shot away from you." Her lips turned down in a frown, "Was that an attack of some kind?"

"Hm…that's what I thought." He eyed her contemplatively, then granted her a nod. "Yes, that was a low level kidou attack."

"Ki…dou?" The word was an ill fit in her western mouth. Some of the rigidity in her shoulders drained however, as she watched him inquisitively. "Wait, what do you think?"

The white-haired captain chuckled and motioned her to relax. "It is one of the tools we use. That was a low level spell. From your descriptions, it sounds as if you are actually seeing the energy flows around us all. It's quite an ability…"

"Huh…" she furrowed her brows again and lent back against the outcropping, as she mulled this over. "That must be what I saw when Mr. Urahara was fighting me before…when he suddenly appeared behind me."

"Ah…shunpo, yes. What did you see?"

"That's what it's called?" She filed that away for later, before massaging a temple against an oncoming headache, "A trail of green and red. I guess that'd be his energy, huh?"

Ukitake nodded. "Sounds like it. Are you alright?"

"Oh…yeah. Just a little bit of a headache. Guess I'm not used to looking at the world like that for so long." She brushed it off, as he had his prior cough. "What about your weapons? They're not like regular swords, are they." It was more of a statement, rather than a question.

"No, no they're not…they're called zanpakto." His discerning eyes took in the pinched look coming around her eyes, and the slight pallor falling over her complexion.

She was far more tired than she was willing to admit, but her eyes were still alive with unasked questions, as well as a hunger for knowledge. This bit of conversation appeared to be an unexpected treat, which she savored. He recalled her earlier words about not being informed of many things by the faceless people she spent her time with before her capture.

Perhaps he could convince Urahara to arrange something else for her, in the way of accommodations. His instinct told him she wouldn't be a danger to any of them, at least not on purpose. If her reaction to their interactions was any indication, more kindness extended her way would only serve to benefit them all.

"They're more like partners than tools to us." The subtle notes of exhaustion in her features and manner again caught his attention. "Meg, you need to rest."

Reluctantly, she nodded, though a note of childlike resistance to the idea entered her gaze. "Yeah," she sighed after a moment, and ran her hands through her short, dark hair. "You're right…"

He stood with her and followed her over to the sleeping mat. Soft, snowy hair fell over his shoulder as he knelt by her when she lay down. A gentle hand pressed to her crown, and his lips turned up in a slight grin at the somewhat stunned look she gave at the action. "We'll talk more later. Rest well."

He retreated to their earlier spot to await someone else to relieve him when her eyes closed, pondering the new revelations as the moments ticked by.

* * *

**Here's your next chapter! Hope you guys enjoyed it. I love Ukitake...thanks for reading! As always, feedback is always welcome. :)**


	10. Chapter 10

Kurosaki was getting tired of this game of cat and mouse, even if he was the one playing the cat to the mysterious arrancar's mouse. The man had refused to confront him, which was vastly out of character for most of the beings from Hueco Mundo; instead he kept doing his best to give the substitute the slip. The young man could sense that he was one of the lower level arrancars, so the blonde must have been following someone's orders.

It was incredibly maddening.

Even worse were the black stealth helicopters he and others kept sighting over the city. The operators kept a low enough profile to keep any official reports from being filed, but the nighttime flights were unnerving to those unfortunate enough to spot them. Normal people would just brush it off and continue on with their lives, but for those in the know, each sighting brought a new knot into already uneasy stomachs.

At least he was sure the helicopters could see neither him nor the arrancars, as they never showed any sign of following after either being – so far, anyway. He wasn't entirely sure of what he'd do about it if the human armed forces made a move. They couldn't use their power against regular humans, and that's what these people were. Regular humans with big, nasty toys. The intentions behind the use of those big, nasty toys were likely just as big and nasty, although unknown. That added note of ignorance on their parts only added to the overall unease.

It felt like something out of a spy movie. When he was a child, like most boys, he'd often thought about how cool it would be to live in one of those movies. After his life turned upside down upon Rukia's appearance, however, he'd decided the whole spy experience was one he could live without. He had enough on his plate as it was. Who needs international espionage when you're trying to save the world every other day?

So, for now, he contented himself with herding the arrancar away from Urahara's shop and slaying the occasional Hollow, all the while keeping an eye out for the sporadic copter appearances.

At the moment, he was perched atop a utility pole, narrowed brown eyes scanning the lights below. There had been a lull in activity for the past few hours, and he was debating the merits of calling it a night. Rukia was back in the Soul Society with Renji, filling their reports and delivering the transcripts Ukitake had put together from his conversations with Meg.

The respected captain had filled them all in, and voiced his opinion that she could be trusted for the most part. That did jive with Ichigo's instincts, but they all knew she was still holding information back. It was probably because she was still so far out of her element. Or perhaps that she still didn't trust them fully. Or maybe she thought she was protecting them.

Well, they'll find out – hopefully sooner rather than later.

The young reaper had just knelt broodingly when a swell of reiatsu behind him caught his attention. He leapt just in time to avoid being swept off of his station by a ferocious whirlwind. Zangetsu found freedom in his hand, and he turned to face the two Hueco Mundo denizens.

The man had been joined by a friend, and apparently they were as tired of playing mouse as he was of cat.

"Where is she, Soul Reaper?" the blond man growled in a low tone, his hands held at his hands, hovering about eight feet away. His clothing was the same white jacket and hakama as when Ichigo had first seen him. The fabric whipped with his golden hair in the same wind that ripped at the reaper's hair and clothing.

At his side stood a woman, her brow and the top of her head covered by her bone-mask. Wild waves of lavender fell to her mid-back. Nearly translucent blue eyes glared from the shelter of the mask, and a petite mouth scowled at him. She reached the man's shoulder in height. Her katana was drawn and held lightly in her hand – the blade replaced by a riptide whirlwind of air. White clothing clung tightly to her curvy figure, flaring only when her sleeves reached mid-forearm.

"Where's who, blondie?" Ichigo called back, intense eyes narrowed.

The man bristled, "It's Rertyan Torkhan, kid." He drew his blade – it glowed red, as if fresh from the forge. "Don't play dumb with us. Where's the freak with wings?"

The berry grinned, and took his stance. "No clue what you're talkin' about, pal. Sounds like you and your girl are barking up the wrong tree. How about you try somewhere else?"

The woman tensed to charge, but stopped abruptly as Rertyan angled his sword in front of her. "No. My turn, Wendrok."

She growled lowly, but shied back as her partner flew at Ichigo. The reaper raised his blade to block, only to leap back at the sound of helicopter blades bearing down on them. Electricity arched their way from the copter's direction.

The three turned shocked stares to the machine ripping at the air. Arrancar scattered briefly, before a garganta swallowed them.

"Shit." Ichigo cursed and took off across the rooftops. This time, the copter followed him.

His hair stood on end as the electricity arced just a little to close. With another curse, he kicked in a flash-step and within moments, found himself street level, several blocks away. Wide brown eyes watched the copter circle once, twice, then lift into the night air.

"Damn." Unnerved, the warrior turned and bolted for Urahara's shop.

Not good. Not good at all.

* * *

Meg had been surprised when Ukitake and Urahara had both appeared upon her awakening to escort her from the desert. Her mind had been mulling over Kisuke's little test the day prior, as well as the following encounters with Ukitake. Truth be told, she was still in shock over the whole situation to a great degree, and even after what had to be close to a week of staying with these people, they still provided new things to surprise her.

This was a world so much different than what she'd known. It was disorienting, frightening, and oddly enough, it was starting to grow on her. That last part, in and of itself, worried her deeply. She held no illusions of being able to stay, and she was desperately afraid that if she didn't leave soon, they would be taken down when she was taken back, or even worse – they would be taken as well. Meg's biggest problem in this area, however, was how to take off with the least amount of damage. She found herself at a complete loss.

The two men had accompanied her up the strange black ladder suspended in the thin air of the desert, through the trapdoor into the stockroom filled with all sorts of things she found herself desperately trying _not_ to identify, through a perfectly mundane hallway, and into the small bedroom she found herself standing in now.

It wasn't a particularly large room at all, but it held a sleeping matt similar to what was in the desert, a small, low table with a reading light, and a closet in one corner, as well as a pillow to kneel on. Meg found herself refolding her wings against her back and bemusedly rubbing the back of her neck as she looked around. She failed to notice the bewildered little smile which had settled upon her lips.

A throat cleared at the partially opened door behind her. With a blink, she looked over her shoulder, and smiled genuinely at the dark haired young man. "Uryu," she pushed the door open the rest of the way, and beckoned him in. The smile faded into a worried frown at the shadows under his eyes, not to mention the still pale complexion. "Not better?"

Initially, he'd returned her smile, and stepped in before shrugging and pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his free hand. He shook his head, "Almost better. Worry not." He held the grey and blue clothing folded neatly in his hand out to her. "For you."

She paused, face gone blank briefly, before her brows creased, and her lips turned down in a slight, uncertain frown. Tentatively, she accepted the cloth. Dark eyes blinked, again before looking from the clothing to him again.

Perplexed, he watched her as she watched him. He motioned her to unfold them.

She did so, and found herself holding a pair of dark grey pants and a flowing blue v-neck top lined with the same grey as the pants. The shirt was gently fitted to the waist, where it gracefully transitioned into a billow of fabric – sweeping into a longer current in the back and a short flutter just over where her waistline would fall, sleeves were three quarter length. The back was modified to easily allow for her wings. "Oh, wow…" Her voice was very soft, but held a definite note of awe to it. Slowly, she rose her eyes to him again. "You made this?"

He nodded. "Yes. Do you like it?" His English was still heavily accented, and the words came slowly, but she could tell he had been working on it.

Meg wondered Ukitake or someone would be willing to teach some more Japanese. She had been picking words up here and there, but not nearly enough to understand or take part in conversations of any kind. Perhaps opening more lines of communication would be a good idea.

Silence again fell for a number of minutes as they contemplated each other, before she nodded, then bowed to him, as she had seen people do during her earlier hunting trips. "Ari…arigato…?" She was sure her own accent was horrible, and really hoped she'd used the right word. Her cringe of apology was embarrassingly evident to anyone who cared to look.

Ishida blinked, but nodded with a small smile which warmed those deep midnight eyes of his. He touched her shoulder and motioned her back up. "Hai. You are welcome." He paused. "Ah…" The young man then mimicked pulling a shirt on and pointed at her with a tilt of his head.

Meg watched him, slightly bewildered for a moment before straightening a little and nodding. Gently, she lay the garments on the mat, and her hands went to the tie of the top she was already wearing. The bow had already been pulled loose when she remembered modesty was far more important here than in the labs – especially when it came to the opposite gender. She gave Uryu a sheepish grin when she noticed the color spreading across his cheeks.

He cleared his throat again and quickly turned around.

With swift efficiency, she stripped free of what she was wearing, and carefully slipped on the gift. Of course, it fit perfectly, and complimented her figure in a way she was very unused to. She found herself more and more impressed with this fascinating man.

When her hand pressed to his shoulder, he turned to assess the garment. A grin lit upon his face as he circled her. He took the chance to pause behind her, and examine how the wings effected the flow of the fabric. He repressed another grin when he noticed the back of her neck visible between the neck of the shirt and her hair flush when he smoothed the fabric down her upper back on either side of her wings with the palms of his hands. Satisfied with how the piece turned out, and to no less of an extent her reaction, he allowed his hands to fall to his sides, and finished his circle. Upon facing her again, he nodded his approval.

Before anything else could be said, a polite knock sounded at the door. The both looked over, only to find Ururu standing there. The small girl's soulful eyes flickered between the two. She looked up to Ishida and murmured something in Japanese.

He frowned, nodded, and then turned to regard the winged woman with sober blue eyes. "Urahara and Ukitake need us. Something happened."

Meg's shoulders tensed subtly, but she nodded, and motioned for him to lead the way.

* * *

**Binary date is binary! ...well, if you ignore the 2 in the year. So, rather almost binary date is almost binary. Easily amused? Me? Nah...  
**

**Anyway, hope everyone had a fun and safe new years! Thanks so much for reading, and as always, I look forward to feedback. Take care all, may your 2010 go wonderfully.**


	11. Chapter 11

In short order, Uryu and Meg had joined Urahara, Ukitake, Chad, Ichigo – now returned to his body – and Orihime in the small sitting room. The teen had already relayed his experience to the rest, and Ukitake had translated it for Meg.

"Hm," Kisuke intoned darkly from behind his fan, "this is quite dire news, isn't it?" Shadowed eyes shifted to the young winged woman settled between Uryu and Ukitake. "I believe it's about time you shared with us just exactly what you told your former keepers, my dear."

Once the white haired captain translated the statement, Meg furrowed her brows, and hesitantly began to speak after a brief pause. Hands neatly folded before her, her gaze remained fixed upon the intertwined fingers as the words flowed. All eyes were on her as her soft voice filled the chamber with its foreign words.

Changes in tone combined with the strangely lyrical way she pronounced many of the words put the shopkeeper in mind of song. While English wasn't exactly the most delicate of languages, especially when compared to his own or its cousins French and Spanish, it was really quite musical in the mouths of certain people – especially when those people happened to be young women. His gaze drifted briefly to the Quincy at her side, and a smirk arose behind the shielding fan. The subtle softening of the young man's eyes as he watched her speak was perfectly obvious to anyone who knew to look. It would appear as though Ishida was also enjoying the sound of their guest's voice – perhaps more so than anyone else in the room.

However, Urahara's attention focused again on matters at hand when he noted Ukitake's nod and upheld hand.

"Meg tells me that these people do have some video footage of Ishida and Chad, although she doesn't know what kind of quality it is. She was not allowed to see it. They also have descriptions of Ichigo and Rukia; however, from what she's overheard, their spirit forms did not appear on the film. Additionally, their technology could not pick up visuals or audio of neither shinigami nor hollow." Jyuushiro's eyes returned to Meg as she spoke once more, before he nodded again. "She doesn't know exactly why they want the hollows, or how they know of their existence, but she does have some ideas."

"Oh?" Urahara snapped his fan closed, and motioned with it for her to go on.

After her speech sounded for a few moments, Ukitake cleared his throat and resumed speaking himself. "There were probably reports of great destruction due to an unknown cause, and unverified reports from spiritually aware people of these beasts. She believes that these reports are what prompted her commanders to send her here. She speculates that they desire the hollows to study them, then incorporate their discoveries into future experiments." He paused, furrowed his brows and cast her a disturbed look at the comment she shared next. "Either as future alterations to her own body, or as future generations of living weapons. Again, however, this is simply hypothesis."

Stillness filled the room as everyone contemplated this. Ishida unobtrusively took one of Meg's hands in his, reassuringly squeezed it, then gently released it. Her initial startled glance at him warmed to a thankful grin and eloquent shrug. It was sadly apparent she was painfully used to this sort of thing. Kisuke wondered just how much of her current state was natural, and how much had resulted from these 'alterations'. It would bear some looking into. Perhaps Mayuri would have some research to share on that matter, considering he specialized in such 'enhancements'. Another side-bar to address later.

Ukitake and Urahara exchanged a meaningful glance, before Ukitake spoke to her again.

"What's he saying?" Ichigo quietly asked Urahara.

"The captain's asking her to elaborate on what kinds of weapons we can expect from them, in addition to what we've already seen from her," the normally evasive shopkeeper replied in a sober tone.

The orange haired reaper nodded, then cringed when he noticed her mimic the act of drawing something. Evidently, she was asking for paper and a writing implement. An amused grin spread over the shopkeeper's lips – he could practically hear the boy griping about yet another chick with, shall we say, an artistic bent.

Nonetheless, the shopkeeper pulled a drawing pad and pencil from one of the cupboards nearby, then slid them over to Meg.

She shot him a fanged, though oddly sweet, grin and set pen to paper. As the drawing took shape under her hand, she pointed certain details out to Ukitake about the weapon. Upon his apparent request to add notes to the sketch, she paused awkwardly, shook her head and her tone took an embarrassed note to it. Jyuushiro blinked at her, then nodded with understanding. Once she finished the drawing, she handed him the pen, and proceeded to point out the different features, which he jotted down in each location relative to where she pointed on the diagram.

The end result was a surprisingly realistic drawing of the whip she had used to subdue the hollows. It was supplemented by Ukitake's neat script to point out the names and uses of the different buttons on the handle of the whip.

Even Urahara found himself grateful she seemed to have quite a bit more drawing talent than Rukia possessed as he leaned forward to examine the work.

"The primary weapon she used is this energy whip. The light you saw arching along it wasn't exactly electricity, although it was closely related in its properties. Apparently, her keepers had discovered the correct vibration which would disrupt a Hollow's consciousness enough to subdue it. She said that was probably the same kind of energy Ichigo saw shooting from the helicopter before. It's a very good thing you avoided being struck by it, as she's not entirely sure of what it would have done to you."

Kurosaki repressed a shiver. "I'm with her on that."

The tearing of paper was heard as she carefully separated the drawing from the notebook, set it aside, then began the process again. This time, a helicopter like the one Ichigo had run afoul of took shape on the page. Again, Ukitake added notes at her indication.

"Further, she was ordered not to engage any human authorities on unless absolutely necessary, and to keep a low profile. Those orders are partially why she avoided fighting us. This was to avoid any sort of international conflict between human governments, or so she was told. As such, these helicopters are primarily for surveillance, but they are also equipped for defense and offence."

He proceeded to point out the camera mounted just below the body of the machine, the guns mounted on the sides, as well as the missile launchers balanced on either side of the craft. The weapon which projected the lighting-like energy was mounted at the nose. "While these craft are apparently more stable than average helicopters, they're still very susceptible to drastic changes in wind speed and direction. They're also heavily armored." Dark brows knit slightly, as he tilted his head to listen again to Meg's soft speech. "They are also likely to use things like tear gas, and tranquilizers to subdue people in physical bodies. She was told those pellets she used were simple smoke bombs." A pale hand patted her shoulder gently at her next words, "If she'd have known, she would not have used them. For that, she's sorry."

Uryu simply shrugged, though his lips did turn up in a grin at her. It grew slightly when she met his eyes, and a slight blush colored her cheeks.

Ukitake watched this exchange, and then listened to her next sentence. "That, to the best of her knowledge, is the extent of what they're likely to use. She herself was their primary weapon."

"Something bothers me," Uryu spoke up, and met Meg's eyes. "If their equipment can't see shinigami or hollow, how would they have known where Ichigo and the arrancar were? How were they then able to track him before he used shunpo? Do they have employees who can see them?"

The young woman glanced from Uryu to Ukitake, then furrowed her brows and shook her head with a few words upon the translation. She then picked the pen back up, and began sketching again on a blank piece of paper.

"Last she knew, she was the only one in their employ who could see us clearly, which is partially why she was chosen for this particular mission. Beyond that, she isn't completely certain, but she thinks they may have developed some sort of sensor to detect the presence of spiritual bodies. Right now, she's etching the uniform she was assigned before we caught her." The captain accepted the pen from her to transcribe her descriptions of the various devices she knew of sewn into it.

Kisuke was silent for a few moments, before he spoke up, "There are a few issues we need to address, here." He waited for all eyes to turn to him. "Firstly, I would prefer if Chad would stay here at the shop until we're a little more prepared to deal with this new threat. Uryu, you'll continue to stay as well, especially because you will need to regain your strength as you recover. The fact these people know your faces, and likely at least something of your talents, means you may be targeted. Orihime, you should be safe enough for now, but it would be best if you at least tried to keep a low profile for a while."

He tapped a finger on the smooth matte surface of the table at their respective nods, "Secondly, we will need to train Meg here on how to use her new talents." He held a hand up to belay questions from the teens in the room, "I'll explain that later, as you'll each have a direct part in her training. Rukia and Renji will, too, once they return from Soul Society."

He paused to let Ukitake translate, then continued, this time directly addressing Meg, "Lastly, there are some tests I would like to run on you, my dear. We also need to know more about your unique," his study drifted from her eyes, to her wings, then to her hands, and back to her eyes again, "qualities."

The white haired captain again translated, then chuckled softly at whatever Meg muttered and the wary look she shot the shopkeeper. He replied, then grinned quietly at the hesitant nod. "Urahara, I don't think she trusts you just yet," Jyuushiro dryly informed, "but she will agree to the tests, so long as I am present to chaperone."

The shopkeeper tipped his hat to them, and offered his most charming smile. "Me? I would never do anything improper to a lady." He chose to ignore the snort from Ichigo. "But I do believe that will be acceptable." His fan snapped back open and fluttered before his face, "As for now, I believe we should call it a day, agreed? I get the feeling we'll all need what rest we can get before the action really starts."

* * *

**I know...this is a lot of talk, but I did feel like it was neccessary. Anyway, Uryu/Meg interraction is turning out to be very cute. I dunno, I always found that side of Uryu to be pretty endearing. I really liked that part of the Bount arc of the Anime, even if a lot of the other things (*coughplushiescough*) drove me up the wall. **

**To be honest, I might end up trying to revamp some of this. I've been very sick ever since new years (finally getting over it, though. YES. I NO LONGER SOUND LIKE MARGE SIMPSON!), and I kind of think that may have effected my writing ability. Any opinions?  
**

**As always, I hope you guys enjoyed!  
**


	12. Chapter 12

Despite the fact it was dawn on a Saturday and any normal teenage boy would still be in their bed, dreaming dreams suitable only for teenage boys, Ichigo was down in the training grounds under Urahara's shop, opposite Meg. He supposed she understood the feeling of being a teenager far outside of the realm of 'normal' better than any of them.

She'd shed the gift from Uryu in favor of the simple white wraparound top and gi pants she'd worn after she was first brought in; it contrasted starkly with the black of his current shinigami form. Uncertainly, they glanced at each other, before the mutual glance traveled to the only other living being in the training grounds – Urahara Kisuke.

"Ok. So, we're here," the substitute lifted a hand to rub at the back of his perpetually unruly hair. "What now? Do I attack her?"

"My, Ichigo, aren't we aggressive this morning! A little too early for you, is it?" Kisuke's face lit up with his most charming smile and he looked from the young soul reaper to the young experiment apparent. He pointed at her eyes, and then spread his fingers in a flashing motion. That charming smile evolved into wickedness when the glow lit from deep within her pupils. He returned his shadowed eyes back to Ichigo. "Of _course_ you attack her! How else will we learn what she's made of?"

"Sorry about this, Meg," he drew Zangetsu, and slid forward to strike at her with a slice to her brow. "I'll try not to hurt you too much." He tried not to think about how stupid that sounded while attacking her with his huge sword.

She didn't seem entirely too surprised, however. Instead of meeting his blade head on, as most of his opponents in the past would, she dodged to the left and forward – aiming to move past him, to his back.

Seeing right through that move, he pivoted to keep her in his sites, and watched her eyes, surprised to see that her focus wasn't directly on him. It seemed as if she were looking just past him instead of directly at him, ebon brows knit with concentration.

Just what the hell is she doing? Instead of delaying his attacks in favor of further thought, he dove in with a slice to her ribs.

This time, her nasty claws snapped out from her fingertips to deflect his blade. She continued the movement from the deflection to duck low and fluidly sweep at his legs.

He hopped over her leg, then blocked a swipe of her claws, and leaned away from the other hand when it attempted to take his face off. If she was best up close and personal, then he was going to put some distance between them and see what she does – he took to the sky.

"Getsuga tensho!" His zanpakto swung down, to send its bright blue his shikai roaring at the woman flying up to meet him midair.

As expected, she jerked back, this time to the right, away from the energy. However, instead of immediately striking back, she tilted her head and continued to watch the nothingness around him with those eerie eyes of hers.

Kurosaki shook his head, but then backpedaled when she shot up at him with an abrupt thrust of her wings.

Strange how he didn't see the muscles coil beforehand. He brought his blade up just in time to block another strike from the hooked blades at her fingertips. Orange brows furrowed at the slight tremor which ran through Zangetsu, then up through his arms upon impact. It was as if a weak current of electricity flowed through his sword and into his arms.

"Ichigo!" Urahara's voice rang from below.

He glanced down at the shopkeeper, then blocked another slice from Meg – this one strictly mundane in its force. "What!"

"Up the power!"

Kurosaki spared another glare at Urahara, and fended off another flurry of attacks.

One flash-step later, he'd put enough distance between himself and his opponent to bring on his bankai. When the smoke cleared, he looked down on the winged woman, and to his surprise, found her panting slightly, glowing eyes narrowed dangerously as she watched him in turn. Upon closer examination, he found that her brow had begun to bead with sweat.

"Kisuke, wait!" He glanced again at the shopkeeper, who was watching the winged woman intently, "What's wrong with her?"

"Not a thing," came the low answer. "Better watch yourself."

Sure enough, as soon as he looked up, he found her nearly on top of him. He ducked out from under her clawed hand easily enough. However, while there wasn't much force to the blow, he could almost feel a subtle, oddly familiar pressure surrounding her. If he squinted, he swore he saw heat-waves in an aura around her body.

The teen shook his head, and again sliced at her. Soon enough, he was driving her back towards the ground, and he could feel with each swing of his blade the strength of her blocks start to wane.

"That's enough for now, kids!" The shopkeeper sounded disturbingly like a mother calling for her children to come in from outside for dinner.

Ichigo relented his attacks, and Meg landed slightly clumsily.

She fell to her knees upon touching down, bowing her head and panting. Sweaty hands pressed to her thighs as the fighter struggled to catch her breath.

The teen returned to his regular power level, ragged over jacket disappearing in favor of the usual kimono-esque uniform and returned Zangetsu to his sheath before kneeling by his recovering sparring partner. "Hey," he furrowed his brow with concern when she finally made eye contact with him, "you ok?"

She favored him with a small, almost sheepish grin then accepted his outstretched hand and slowly stood with a nod. While she still couldn't understand most of the words themselves, she was apparently beginning to pick up on the basic meanings of some phrases.

"Well, then. I think it's time for some breakfast, don't you?" Kisuke proclaimed just before turning and leading for the ladder.

Ichigo shrugged at her quizzical look, and motioned for her to walk with him.

* * *

In short order, Ichigo had returned to his "Nice Vibe" shirt and jeans clad body. Meg, in turn, had bathed and slid the soft grey and blue material of Uryu's gift back over her own frame.

Right at the moment, she was left in the kitchen with Urahara. Tessai had already brought the rest of the food out to where the others were settled around the breakfast table. Yoruichi wasn't in evidence, and the kids were in the shop, readying it for likely another slow business day.

Kisuke set the tray with the coffee on it in her hands for her to bring out.

She tilted her head and looked up at him curiously. "Um…" She furrowed her brows in thought, attempting to remember the one of the few words she'd learned so far, "Nani…?" She then looked down to the beverage, before back up to the shop owner.

The man smiled when he realized what she was asking. "Ah. 'Gezai no ocha.'"

"Ge…gezai no ocha?" Her wings readjusted themselves on her back, belying the uncertainty of her pronunciation.

Urahara nodded encouragingly and gave her a thumbs up.

Pleased to have learned just a little more, she smiled in return, nodded in thanks to him, then carried the tray out to the room where the rest were.

Kisuke trailed behind, fan fluttering all the way.

Upon reaching the group, she held the tray up a little to the in the room, and offered a shy smile with her accented words. "Gezai no ocha?"

She blinked at Chad's blank stare, heat rose to her cheeks at Uryu's throat clearing and Ukitake's discreet cough. If she didn't know any better, that cough was an attempt to hide a laugh. Meg was now positive her face matched the red of Renji's hair, who had almost succeeded in stopping the spit-take of juice he'd just taken a sip of. The tattooed man was smothering a snicker as he wiped the escaped juice on his Red-Pineapple t-shirt with a napkin.

Quickly, she winced and set the coffee on the table. The winged woman knelt by Ukitake and bent her head closely to the white-haired captain to whisper in an exceedingly embarrassed tone, "…what did I just say?"

He cleared his throat, and smoothed his hands over the casual sky-blue kimono he wore. "You just offered us laxative tea."

There was nothing more she wanted to do at that moment than sink through one of the cracks in the floor. "So, um," She tried desperately to get her blushing under control, "what is 'coffee' in Japanese?" To her mortification, she felt the red only deepen when Uryu patted her shoulder. Upon glancing at him, she saw he'd finally allowed a grin to raise the corners of his mouth.

Her hands pressed to her cheeks as she looked imploringly back to Jyuushiro.

"Kohii," he shot her a reassuring grin and patted her knee.

The young woman raised her eyes to the rest of the group, pointed to the carafe and repeated the word which just happened to be depressingly similar to the English word, "_Kohii_." She shook her head, and straightened, then grinned sheepishly at the ripple of laughter which finally flowed through the room.

* * *

**Here's the next chapter! I'm having entirely too much fun with the whole language thing...gotta love yahoo answers and the vastness of the interwebs for providing help. So...bear with me if there are any off kilter translations. I did study Japanese for a year and a half about a decade ago, and before that, studied at a dojo for a while, but my grasp on foreign languages is pretty tenuous at best.**

**Oddly enough, when I originally thought of this, I honestly didn't know what the Japanese word for "coffee" was. I about died laughing when I found out the pronounciation was almost exactly the same...just replace the f sound with h. XD**

**Hope you guys enjoy! :)  
**


	13. Chapter 13

A few days later, the Quincy had finally recovered well enough to resume regular activity. He and Meg had taken to spending some of their spare time together during the tail end of his recovery. She helped him practice his English, and he had begun to teach her Japanese. They'd discovered a strange sort of resonance between them, despite the leagues of differences.

The young experiment and the last Quincy had found solace in their mutual loneliness. Still, Uryu sensed a lingering sadness about this young woman. It was a sorrow she strove to hide from everyone behind a subtle, carefully maintained emotional distance. Nonetheless, there were times he could feel it rolling off of her like steam off hot flesh fresh from battle. He hoped that one day he would be able to rid her of that pain, if only for a little while, even if that day was not today.

Today held different plans.

By the time Uryu had reached the training grounds with Urahara, they found Ukitake standing with the object of his reflections upon the sandy plane, a red paper bull's-eye pinned to a wooden box about ten feet in front of them.

She had been given a faded pair of blue jeans, tattered at the ankles and a dark t-shirt, which fit closely to her torso. Frayed fabric around where her wings met the powerful muscle of her back demonstrated the crude method of modification. On her feet, she bore her army boots, shined and neatly laced – at direct odds with the worn garments gracing the rest of her body. Despite the rigid, attentive posture she'd adopted for the lesson, the casual clothing suited her quite nicely. He smiled slightly – it warmed him to know that she held him in high enough esteem to save the gift he made her for gentler times. Because he'd known he would be training as well, he'd donned his own Quincy uniform, crisp in its snowy whiteness.

The young man very deliberately ignored the sly grin plastered over the shopkeeper's face at his side.

Habitually pushing his glasses up his nose, he strode up behind the two. From the few English phrases he caught, it sounded as if the captain was explaining kidou to her. He drew up to the shinigami's free side, and watched as she extended her right arm, brows furrowed with intense concentration.

Finally, her smooth voice rose forcefully, "Hadou number one, thrust!"

Midnight eyes widened when bright white light balled within her palm, only to shoot a meager distance of about six feet – a little over halfway to the target.

Kisuke whistled low from Meg's other side, shadowed eyes watching the energy dissipate in the sand.

"She can do kidou?" He murmured to himself, as he stared at the spot the energy had fizzled out. Blue eyes returned to the young woman from whom it had originated.

Streams of crimson had already etched their way down the toned length of her forearm from the obliterated skin on her palm, and dripped from the bend of her elbow. A frown turned her lips down at the corners as she examined the seared flesh. "Is that supposed to happen?" It took him a moment to translate the question her quiet voice had asked in English.

"No," Ukitake answered in kind, then frowned as well and took her smaller hand in his. Although the blood flow was already starting to ebb, he still reached into the black outer kimono he wore under his haori to withdraw a cloth. Urahara also took this opportunity to lean over and examine the hand.

The men repressed shivers as they watched the flesh knit itself back together before their very eyes. Within moments, there was no sign on the smooth skin of the burn which had been there only moments ago.

"Are you alright?" The white-haired captain's English question was filled with concern. A slight note of surprise had crept in with the worry.

She nodded, then shot Uryu a smile as she reclaimed her hand and used the kerchief Ukitake had given her to wipe the blood from her forearm. "I am, thank you." The winged woman shot an eloquent look at Urahara, who was still leaning a little too close for comfort.

Kisuke straightened once she'd folded and returned the kerchief to Ukitake. The shopkeeper rested his hands on the handle of his cane, his shadowed gaze resting upon the others. "I trust we're all ready to continue with the training now, yes?"

Uryu nodded, and glanced at Meg in time to see her brow smooth upon figuring out the gist of Urahara's words. She nodded as well, and tilted her head at the dark haired boy.

Kisuke turned, clapped Ukitake on the shoulder, and then stepped back with the taller man. "Have fun, kids."

At his words, the young woman coiled to lunge at Uryu – eyes picking up their neon blaze.

However, he was also swift to move. He rode the reishi he gathered at his feet via hirenkyaku to gain footing upon the closest rock outcropping. The blue bow flashed to life in his hand – the arrow materialized in his other.

Her eyes followed him even as she deftly maneuvered through the projectiles of energy he let fly at her.

From speaking with Ichigo, he'd learned that her style involved getting in close, so he knew to keep his distance - more so than usual. The archer found himself watching the patterns she used to avoid the arrows.

Generally, she appeared to favor circular movements, or dodges to the left or right – very rarely did she move backwards. On a hunch, he let an arrow fly, then immediately drew a second and aimed it slightly to her right.

Her movement to that side was quickly diverted by folding her wings tightly against her back and bulleting under the shot. The leathery appendages attached to her back snapped open and thrust her body back up at him.

Again, he loosed another arrow, but watched in surprise when it veered off course when she flung her hand at it. It left a small trail of sparks in its wake.

That opening provided her enough opportunity to dive in at him – twisting midair to tackle him around the waist. He pivoted his own body to block the move with his bow. The Quincy attempted to draw an arrow, but found the electric flow of reishi scattering in his hands. As soon as her hand pressed against his ribs, the weaponry vanished completely. His startled eyes met hers, and found that her glow had disappeared as well. The young man fell back under the force of her weight and flight. Once on his back, he found her laying on his chest, frightening dark eyes he'd grown used to only inches away from his, and filled with just as much confusion as he felt.

She drew a breath and levered herself off of him.

In a flash, Urahara and Ukitake were standing by them. The shopkeeper offered the archer a hand up, and glanced between the two. "What happened?"

Uryu frowned, brushed himself off and looked at his palms, then to Meg, "I…have no idea. What did you do?"

She raised her shoulders in a shrug and shook her head, refolding her wings against her back – just as much in the dark as he.

"Hm," Kisuke inspected Uryu's hands for injury, then stepped back, watching the two of them contemplatively. "Uryu, can you summon your bow again?"

"I think so." Ishida held out his hand, and hoping it would work, attempted to bring the weapon back into existence. Much to his relief, the webbed blue flashed back into his hand.

"Meg," he glanced at the girl. "Light your eyes and touch it."

The fighter gave him an odd look, then retrieved the glow, and reached a hand out towards the light in Uryu's. The luminescence sparked and wavered as her hand neared, but it remained perfectly visible. She jerked the hand back, as if burned, and returned her gaze to the ex-soul reaper.

Kisuke watched intently. "Rest your hand on his arm."

Almost hesitantly, she did so, then started as the bow flickered away, and her eyes dimmed.

"Well, this could be a problem," the shopkeeper crossed his arms, and watched the two bewildered young people before him.

"Kisuke, what's happening?" Ishida's gaze was brought to Ukitake when he cleared his throat.

"I believe," Jyuushiro's contemplative eyes passed between the archer and Meg, "Your powers cancel each other out."

She shook her head, not understanding. Patiently, the captain translated for her. Her wide eyed gaze returned to Uryu briefly, whose arm her hand still rested upon, then moved to the two older men. "Why?"

Urahara smirked. "That's what we need to find out."

Ishida felt her grip tighten briefly at the implications of that statement once she translated it in her head. The warmth of his own hand over her taut fingers eased little of their tension.

* * *

**Guess I'm on something of a roll, here.**

**Enjoy all, feel free to review, as always. :)  
**


	14. Chapter 14

Every Sunday evening, Chad and two of his older friends had a ritual of paying a visit to a local club, after their band practiced. This particular club was a favorite not only because featured local musicians, but it also allowed all ages in up 'till about 10:00. Always useful, when one of the group is a rules conscious 16 year old. The three of them gathered at their usual booth, and the silent young man listened to the other two banter as he sipped at his soda.

Truth be told, though most people wouldn't know it to look at him, he was getting cabin fever being stuffed up in that shop. He'd spent a long time finding enough inner peace to let it flow outward into the immovable wall his body grew into, but that didn't mean he was without emotion. Even the peaceful tiger needed his down time.

It helped even more to be away from their guest. As polite and none threatening she strove to be, she still creeped him out. There was just something about her inhuman eyes and fluid way of moving that struck him as blatantly unnatural. Although he spent most of his time with warriors, she was another breed altogether. She reminded him a little of the Second Squad in the Soul Society. Secretive. Tricky. Uncanny.

But Kurosaki seemed to like her, and Ishida definitely felt something for her, so she couldn't be that bad. Still, he had a very bad feeling about the whole situation, for reasons beyond the obvious. Reasons he just couldn't put his finger on.

Tonight, however those particular circumstances were just what he was trying to escape from, only for a few hours. He blinked at the fingers snapping in front of his face.

"Oi, Chad! Wake up!" The blonde man, Shigo, grinned up at him, "You sure that's just soda you're drinkin'?"

"Oh," he nodded. "Yeah. Coke."

His friend snickered, and returned to his mindless banter. Chad resolved to just sit back and enjoy the music and laughter which flowed around him.

It didn't last, however.

"Excuse me," a lightly accented voice commented from the end of the table they occupied, prompting Chad to look over. There stood an athletically built Japanese-American woman. Her short black skirt and silken red tank top clung to her curves, and soft hair flowed like black rain down her back. Almond eyes beamed at the stoic young man, "I couldn't help but notice you when I walked in." She leaned over to look deeper into his eyes, and offer a better view of her cleavage, "Wanna dance?"

The blond man to Chad's right elbowed him playfully. For his part, however, the quiet Latino only shook his head, "Sorry. I'm not that good at dancing."

Something impatient flickered through the woman's dark eyes for an instant, before it was quickly smoothed over by flirtatious playfulness. She grabbed his large hand in both of his, and tugged him from the booth. "Aw, c'mon. I can teach you!"

"Go on, Chad," his goateed friend leaned in close to whisper, "She's _hot_."

Reluctantly, he allowed himself to be pulled to his feet, and then to the dance floor. "Um…"

"Oh, it's ok, honey," she placed his hands on her swaying hips, and slid her own palms up his broad chest then around his shoulders. "I won't bite," she grinned into his eyes, "unless you want me to."

Distinctly uncomfortable, the young man stepped back slightly when she moved to press her shapely body to his. He caught her wandering hand in his when it slipped sensually lower over his shoulder. Despite the supposedly ideal situation, something felt very wrong.

When he turned his head to look at what she was holding, he found out just how wrong it was.

A syringe. Smaller than most he'd ever seen, but he had no interest in finding out what the clear liquid within did. They both knew this particular round of the game was over.

So much for a relaxing evening with friends.

Gently but firmly, he pushed her back away from him, and bee-lined for the table where his buddies were still drinking.

"Sorry guys, I need to get home," was all he said, as he grabbed his jacket, handed money for his drink to the blond, before swiftly weaving his way through the mass of people, and out the door. His mind raced as he swung the leather over his shoulders against the cool night air, and quickly strode down the crowded sidewalk.

The woman was right behind him. When he glanced over his shoulder, he saw she was talking rapidly into a cell phone, and dodging people as she hurried to keep up. Thankfully, the cherry red stilettos strapped to her feet and her shorter legs put her at a distinct disadvantage.

He broke into a run.

"Hey," of a familiar voice hissed from somewhere to his left. Sado looked down, only to find Yoruichi in cat form, keeping pace with him. "Follow me," she murmured in her deep, masculine voice.

He only nodded and veered off into a side-street after her. They ran for blocks on end, before a familiar roar sounded and the heavy reiatsu of the hollow settled on their shoulders. The soul of a boy only a few years younger than Chad dashed past, followed closely by the hulking mass of fur and bone. It brought a fist down at seeing Sado and Yoruichi – powdering the pavement where it struck.

A strangled gasp sounded behind them, followed quickly by the hurried clatter of heels running down the sidewalk in the opposite direction.

The black cat glanced back, "She's gone."

Chad nodded. "Good." His right arm armored itself, "El Directo!" The hollow vaporized when hit by the massive rush of bright energy. The two of were left staring into an empty alley.

"They're changing tactics," the cat muttered, then unfolded into a very naked Yoruichi. Silently, she ran her hands over the blushing man's shoulders, arms and hands. At last, from his collar, she drew a tiny, circular device – a red light blinking in its center. A tracker. She flicked it aside, then regressed, much to Chad's relief, back into a cat and motioned for him to follow her back to the shop.

* * *

The events of the last training session had drastically changed Urahara's plans for his exam on Meg. While her physical modifications were still very intriguing, and his findings from her blood work left more questions than answers, the emergence of her strange new reishi based powers proved to be far more pressing. Even more disturbing were the effects they had on Uryu's Quincy powers.

He had yet to hear from Kurotsuchi about his discoveries. As it was, they were compiling a fair amount of material on the girl to bring up when next he spoke with the Soul Society. It should make for an interesting debriefing.

Then, of course, was the budding relationship between the two young people. While Ishida would be quick to inform him of how little of his business it was, Kisuke had doubts about the practicality of the bond. They all knew this particular arrangement couldn't last forever, although none of them knew quite how it would end. From looking into the young woman's sad eyes, however, the shopkeeper had an idea of how she thought it would.

Meg was proving to be friendly enough, although she kept a careful distance from him and the rest when she could. There were moments when her smiles actually reached her eyes over the past few days, and seconds of genuine affection towards them shined through her polite mask. Those times were all too brief before that facade carefully cemented itself, unfortunately. Fissures of emotion appeared more and more often around Uryu and Ukitake, though in different capacities. Jyuushiro appeared to be growing into something more along the lines of a father figure to her, while Uryu…well, it appeared as if his feelings were being returned with interest. Urahara only hoped it wouldn't end in tears.

Currently, he was situated in his dimly lit lab with the two young people in question, along with Captain Ukitake. He had just collected samples of reiatsu from them both and was stowing the vials, when Yoruichi's voice called, "Kisuke!"

All four heads snapped up at the tone, and Kisuke waved a dismissive hand. "I probably just left the seat up," he shot a mischievous grin at Ukitake upon seeing the confused look on Meg's face at that. Her Japanese had been improving in leaps and bounds, but she was still far from fluent. He wondered how the serene captain would translate that for her. "I should be right back. Make yourselves at home." With that, he strode out of the lab, in the direction of Yoruichi's voice.

He found her and Chad on their way through the storage room. The Mexican boy was as impassive as ever, though the slight tension around his visible eye gave him away, while Yoruichi wore the grim look of someone with very bad news.

Kisuke's flippant tone disappeared, replaced by his own sober expression, "What happened?"

"Chad? Yoruichi?" the Quincy's concerned voice sounded from behind Urahara's shoulder.

Ukitake and Meg were trailing just behind him, looks of worry gracing their features as well. The were-cat's tone hadn't escaped them in the least.

Uryu returned the wry look the shopkeeper gave them with one just as dry, "Only you can make yourself at home in that house of horrors, Kisuke."

Yoruichi couldn't help the smirk which flitted quickly over her features, before it drained away. "We should gather everyone for this story, Kisuke."

* * *

**Sorry for the delay in this - I swear people have been taking crazy pills around here. Looks like insomnia is good for writing, heh? In any case...I'm suprised at how much easier it was to write for Chad than I thought it would be**. **So...hope yall enjoy!**


	15. Chapter 15

Dark and heavy, night had truly fallen. Everyone was either asleep or getting there, save for Kisuke Urahara. After Yoruichi had provided a summary of the evening's events, they'd determined that the meeting should wait for the morning so they could get enough rest to be fully aware for the discussion. The two most likely targets were already in the shop after all, and that meant they were safe. As for the humble shopkeeper, he sat at his desk, enthralled by the paperwork which covered its surface.

The final results had finally finished processing from the blood samples he'd taken from Meg and Uryu shortly after the antidote had been administered. He found himself staring at the black letters which glared boldly at him from the glaring white page.

He wasn't entirely sure of what to make of their story.

Everyone had assumed the fevers and pain the young man had endured were merely side effects of the potion extracted from the winged woman's blood. However, it appeared those side effects were truly symptoms of something far more disturbing.

According to the paper, not only had Uryu's blood type inexplicably changed, but some of his original genetic markers had shifted subtly. At this point, nothing else had been changed, outside of a slight shift in the Quincy's reiatsu, but he couldn't be sure of the long term effects.

The ex-reaper sat back with a drawn out sigh.

He had no idea of how he was going to break the news the young man.

Additionally, Captain Kurotuchi had finally relented his discoveries obtained from the samples from the young woman sent to him. The painted man had identified antidotes to at least 52 known poisons, and the strong possibility of there being more, as well innumerable antibodies to a vast array of diseases. Her individual genome appeared to be a mess of conflicting markers at first glance, but when examined closer, a perfect, strangely beautiful, balance became evident. Her very survival defied logic and nature, yet the fact he could feel the strong, fluid flow of her slumbering energy reinforced the fact of her impossible life.

Her reiatsu, however, was for the most part that of a normal human. The reishi making up her aura bore many similarities to that of the Quincy, but appeared twisted – no doubt due to the manipulations she'd faced in the past. That part of the equation did certainly explain her ability to manipulate and see reiatsu around her, at least.

Tired grey eyes re-read the report from the Soul Society, then drifted over to his own disturbing findings on Ishida. Those eyes blinked as an idea occurred. He drew out the two gene maps, as well as the two reiatsu maps. He then compared the two.

A low whistle sounded, "Very interesting, indeed…" Urahara shook his head and again leaned back in his chair, gazing thoughtfully at the corkboard centered over the desk.

* * *

The next morning, the unlikely group of warriors and friends gathered in council in the usual back room of the shop, cups of tea in front of each of them. Chad and Yoruichi had just finished relating the events of the evening before.

"So, now they're resorting to trickery? Man, Soi Fon would have a ball with them," Renji stated the obvious.

"That's what it looks like, Abarai," Urahara responded quietly.

"I…" Meg narrowed her eyes, as she tended to when searching for the right words, "surprised, they...ah…chose this…" Raven brows furrowed, "way."

All eyes rested on her, again the shopkeeper spoke up, "Why is that?"

She paused and frowned deeply as she again wracked her brain for the Japanese, then glanced entreatingly to the white-haired man at her right. "…help…" To her evident frustration, the translation in her head wasn't going smoothly, "…help speak…please?"

Ukitake nodded, then listened to her English words. "From what Meg tells me, they usually avoid social situations like the one Chad was in. In her experience, the only times they tend to use the public as a cover is during controlled situations, like balls for dignitaries and the like. Those usually ended in discreet assassinations."

The large man's eyes widened, then returned to the young woman sitting at the opposite side of the table when she shook her head. Softly, she hastened to go on.

"She doesn't think that's what they were going to do. That needle probably held a tranquilizer, so that was likely an attempt at kidnapping," Jyushiro translated.

"It is disturbing that they knew to send an operative to that particular club at that particular time," Uryu spoke up from Meg's other side.

Urahara nodded with a frown, "Indeed it is, especially considering several of you will be returning to school next week." He snapped open his fan and fluttered it before his face thoughtfully. "This obviously means that they're already watching Chad. We're very lucky they haven't trailed him here."

Green on black eyes had flickered between Ishida and the shopkeeper as they spoke. Upon translating enough in her head to understand the gist of what was said, those eyes lowered to the table, a slight frown tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"What do you have in mind, Kisuke?" Rukia asked.

Hat 'n Clogs shook his head, "Preferably, we need to resolve this situation before then. For now, however, perhaps we should go out in teams to see if we can perhaps get more information on these people. Give them a little of their own medicine. Meg, can you read maps?"

The girl in question rose her head at her name, then tilted her head as Ukitake translated, and nodded quietly.

"Good. We'll determine routes to take, and get teams put together, then." Shadowed eyes slid towards the dark-haired boy across from him, "Ishida, there are a few things I need to discuss with you, as well."

The young man in question glanced up at him curiously, "What do you need, Kisuke?"

Urahara shook his head, "I'll tell you in a bit." He glanced meaningfully at the rest. "Does anyone else have anything to add?"

Ukitake caught his eye, and the shopkeeper knew he'd need to fully fill the other man in. That will have to happen after he has his conversation with Uryu.

Gradually, the rest filed out, eventually leaving the ex-shinigami and the Quincy to face each other.

When Kisuke failed to speak, Uryu crossed his arms, "Yes?"

The older man watched the younger thoughtfully, then sighed and removed his hat. He watched as the younger furrowed his brows and straightened at that gesture. "The results of those tests I ran on your blood have been finalized."

Ishida frowned, "…and?"

"There have been some…ah…fundamental changes as a result of that antidote I pulled from Meg's blood." He paused to gauge the teen's reaction. His terse silence and stony gaze wasn't particularly promising. "First…your blood type has changed, so it would be a good idea to be retested at your father's hospital." At his puzzled nod, Kisuke continued, "Second, it…appears as though there have been some minor changes in your genetic makeup."

The young man paled, "…what kinds of changes?"

"Extremely miniscule ones, as far as I can tell. They shouldn't be enough to cause any problems down the line, but I would like another sample from you, just to be sure. It looks as though that antidote not only rid you of the poison, but it also brought your genetic structure slightly closer to Meg's."

Deep blue eyes stared in disbelief. "…do you think the changes are still taking place?"

"No, but that's partially why I'd like another blood sample from you, so we can determine that."

Ishida nodded, then hesitantly ventured on, "…anything else?"

Urahara frowned lightly, "Your reiatsu has also shifted slightly. Again, not nearly enough to make any big difference in who you are or what you can do, but it appears to mirror Meg's even more than it already did. I believe that's why you two cancel each others' powers out, and partially why she was able to divert your arrow . This may actually be useful, eventually, but again, I'd like to study it more."

Uryu's stunned gaze grew firmer, and again, he nodded. "Sounds like a plan. Have you told her any of this?"

Kisuke shook his head, "Not yet. I'd like to look into your samples more deeply before speaking with her about it."

Ishida stood with a resigned sigh. "Let's get this over with."

Urahara smirked, and plopped his hat back into place, "That's the spirit. No pun intended."

Uryu only rolled his eyes and strode out of the room.

* * *

**Many thanks for Haddrell for the idea about Kisuke taking a look at Ishida's blood! Not entirely sure why I hadn't thought of it sooner.**

**Also, sorry for the delay in updating. I've managed to fall a number of times on the icey sidewalks, and in the proccess, screwed up my right shoulder and triggered the chronic tendonitis in both wrists. This hasn't been a very good week, but here's hoping it gets better. So, yes, I'm keeping typing outside of work to a bare minimum, which means, sadly, updates will probably be coming slower as I deal with the whole healing proccess. This happens every year, so it's pretty old hat.  
**

**I'm SO over winter.**

**Hope you guys enjoyed! Thanks for the loyal reviews, they're always very appreciated!  
**


	16. Chapter 16

Laundry of a multitude of colors fluttered cheerfully against the brilliant blue sky. It was a sight which brought old memories back to Renji Abarai. He and Rukia had grown up on some of the worst streets of the Rukongai, and on laundry days, people would often string wet clothing up to dry in the wind. He remembered stealing articles off lines as his body grew too big for the current rags he wore, then running off with his prize before anyone could notice. Their motley family of street-children would do the same thing. As a result, laundry days were anticipated in much the same way human kids would look at a day at the carnival. It was almost a game to dodge between lines of clothing and adults trying to guard their belongings. The fluttering of fabric was reminiscent of the flags of the rare community celebrations which took place a few times each year.

The fiery shinigami no longer needed to do that, obviously, but the cross-hatch of lines stretched between the buildings making up the ally they were standing in the mouth of brought back those fond memories. His nostalgia, however, was dismissed at the sharp little elbow painfully jabbing his ribs.

"Wake up!" the jabber hissed exasperatedly. Huge violet eyes glared up at him when he winced and returned the glare.

"The hell, Rukia!" He rubbed his ribs absently. She could slay hollows with that damn thing. "What is it?"

Kuchiki huffed a sigh, then shot a warning look at Kurosaki when the boy snickered.

Ichigo ignored the look for the most part, but at least he quieted down.

"As I was _saying_," she glared at the two of them again, "The base is supposed to be about five blocks west. Are we clear on the plan?"

"Yeah, yeah," the tattooed reaper crossed his arms over his chest. "We make a sweep by the place in the gigais, and if no bells 'n whistles go off, we go again in spirit form, right?"

"We're not _that_ dumb, Rukia," the berry piped up, "We're not exactly gonna break the door down and start demanding information or anything."

The petite reaper shook her head, "_This_ time, anyway." With that, she led the way out of the alley.

Ichigo and Renji shared a look with each other, then shrugged. Maybe she was on the rag. Who knew why she was so testy today?

Abarai was again struck by how much this part of town reminded him of his younger years. This particular section was littered with low quality housing – stained walls, poorly maintained public properties, filth and stench around every corner. Sullen residents glared intermittently out of doorways and windows as they passed by. Despite their own casual dress, he knew the feral prowl this sort of environment brought out in his gate was very threatening. That only meant that only the most foolish of people would attempt to cross them. Oddly enough, however, it helped them blend in with the lower vibrations of the place.

The denizens grew scarcer and scarcer as they neared their target. On the surface, there was nothing out of the ordinary for this patch of property. Urahara had told them the base was camouflaged to blend in with the rest of the area, and indeed, its two block mass did just that. If not for the slightly electric feel to the ambient reiatsu, they'd be none the wiser of its existence.

They'd also been warned to keep any of their suspicions hidden, as Meg had said that not only where there cameras, there were also operatives prowling the area. So, outside of cursory glances on their parts to the buildings, they just strode on by, as if bound for a specific destination.

Once they were a safe enough distance away, they stepped aside for another short meeting to compare notes. After a brief discussion, they'd left Rukia and Renji's soul candy possessed gigais to care for Ichigo's body and returned to the base in spirit forms.

"Damn," Renji shook his head and glowered at the run down building in front of them. That electric tingle was far more potent without the gigai to muffle its affects. "I wish I knew what was doing that."

Ichigo stepped aside as a bedraggled man wandered past them without a look in their direction, "Hey, do you guys know where it started?"

The dark haired reaper between them frowned thoughtfully, and started retracing her steps, and came to a stop about two blocks away. "About here!" She called, then put her hand out and began tracing the barrier for a few feet, then rejoined the guys. "I bet this goes all the way around the base. It probably explains why there aren't as many people here as in other parts of the area."

A synthetic scream ripped its way through the air, prompting the three of them to grip their heads as the fierce frequency painfully pierced their ears. It sounded like audio feedback from a microphone situated too close to the speaker pumped up to full volume. The bum rummaging in the garbage at the end of the block didn't even look up.

"Shit!" The red-haired soul reaper reached down to lift Rukia back to her feet, and shoved her before him. "We gotta get outa this barrier!"

The three of them scrambled for freedom, despite the agony ripping directly into their brains. They didn't notice the seemingly harmless disheveled man don an odd pair of goggles and turn in their direction.

Rukia was the first over the barrier, followed quickly by Ichigo. As soon as Renji had reached the very edge of the barrier, however, the rag-clad guy had taken a gun of some sort out and pulled the trigger. Renji yelled in surprise as electricity balled in the arch of his back and scattered from there along the rest of his body.

"Renji!!" Rukia screamed, but was pulled back from grabbing him by Ichigo.

Panting, he spun to face the deceptively ragged man, voltage still arching over his shuddering limbs. His pain addled brain struggled to find a way out without killing the firearm wielding guy. He drew his zanpakto with a trembling hand, and fell to one knee, bowing his head briefly at the sensation ripping along his nerves.

"H…Howl Zabimaru!" The blade transformed into his multi-sectioned shikai, and ferociously, he brought his arm back, then snapped it forward, the weapon ripping into the garbage can right next to the man.

As he'd hoped, the man nearly dropped the gun when he jerked to the side and shielded himself from the sudden explosion of trash and plastic. It broke his hold on him, however, and gasping for breath, Abarai barreled out of the barrier, then bolted with the others for shelter.

* * *

They'd taken an extremely convoluted way back to Urahara's shop after stopping briefly for Renji to catch his breath a little more. None of them had wanted to risk being trailed, although there were no signs of that happening.

As it was, he was still shaky by the time he'd finally breached the doors of their safe haven.

Reddish eyes closed as Kisuke and Tessai examined him. He could feel the anxious reiatsu of his friends gathered outside the room, along with the healing and energetic investigation the two were doing on him.

"Well, Renji," Urahara finally spoke up, "I think you'll live." The serious tone evaporated into his usual levity, "You'll just be giving people zaps every time you touch them for the next month or so."

"Ha ha, very funny," he grumbled as he pushed himself up on his elbows. Contemplatively, the animalistic reaper watched the grinning shopkeeper, then slowly reached a hand out, and only just touched Kisuke's bare forearm. He grinned when the SNAP sounded, and the other man recoiled at the static shock Abarai gave off. "You weren't kidding."

The shopkeeper smirked and rubbed his arm bemusedly. "No, I wasn't. Oh, and enjoy the new hair style."

Indeed, the silken crimson hair he usually kept up in a tail was currently wafting around his head in an electrified afro. There didn't seem like there was a whole lot he could do at the moment to bring it under control. He growled and smoothed his hands over the mess. He wasn't going to hear the end of _this_ for quite some time.

Outside of a branching burn dealt to his lower back, he was honestly no worse for wear. The burn was easily enough healed by Tessai's skill in kidou, but he was still royally pissed off about the whole thing. It's not like they weren't warned of that particular weapon, nor of the potential use of sensors, but he couldn't help but think that they should have been a little more wary of the human so at ease in the area. Why would that man have been there when everyone else seemed to avoid that particular spot, anyway?

Of course, he had to have worked there. Had the three of them been suspicious as they passed by? Maybe they should have acted ill at ease or something.

Grumbling softly to himself, he looked up when Kisuke opened the sliding door to the room, and the rest filtered in. Rukia knelt by him and inspected him with wide, worried eyes as the others found their places around the room as well. Captain Ukitake settled with Meg to his right, and Uryu again on her other side – the three of them seemed to spend a lot of time together. Chad and Yoruichi took up positions behind Tessai.

"Hey," the substitute's voice sounded from his other side. "You ok?"

Renji zapped him, and grinned at the kid's reproachful look. "'Course I am. Got a new power, too."

"I'll 'new power' you," the teen growled back, although his eyes gave his relief away. "Nice _hair_, Renji. I'm sure Yumichika would love to see your new fashion sense."

The red-head had just leaned in nose to nose with Ichigo, giving him another shock in the process, and was about to snap something in return when Captain Ukitake cleared his throat.

As happened with his joint third seats, the sound and slight flare in reiatsu caught the attention of the two men. "Glad to see you're alright, Renji." Intense, though calm brown eyes drifted between the three faces. "It appears you three have some new information?"

"Ah, yes, Captain," Rukia spoke up, and sat a little more straightly. "They seem to employ some sort of force field around the base Meg had directed us to. Also, the man who shot Renji wore some kind of goggles. It appeared as if he could at least see where we were with them. In addition, they had some sort of sound based weapon they used to try to incapacitate us."

The white haired captain frowned and glanced over at Kisuke. "It looks as if they're learning from the Hollows Meg had captured."

"Indeed it does," Kisuke frowned, and glanced at those gathered around the room. "We still need to determine if they have operatives patrolling the town. Hollow activity has steadied, and no more have vanished without explanation, but that doesn't mean they're not gathering information in some other way. There is still also the matter of the two arrancar." His grey eyes settled on Uryu and Meg, "Are you two still ready for our outing tomorrow?"

The worried, slightly crestfallen look she was giving Renji was replaced with one of curiosity when she looked at Urahara. Uryu nodded, but Meg arched a brow and pointed a thumb at her wings.

"Ah, that's right, I still haven't shown you the new toy I made for you. Make yourselves at home. If you'll all excuse us," He shot a grin at the rest watching him curiously, and stood. The shopkeeper gave Renji a wide berth so as to avoid any unwanted shocks, and offered his hand to the young winged woman. "Come, my dear."

* * *

**Hehehe...ok, I had entirely too much fun with the whole electricity thing. Sorry, Renji, I just couldn't resist! At least I didn't maul you as badly as in that other fic...**

**I'm also taking a little bit of artistic liberty with the bad part of Tokyo. I'd done a little research on the internet, and Tokyo really looks like a pretty decent place to stay. Even the slums seem to be a little less dangerous than a lot of the American cities I've been to, including the one I live in now. o O  
**

**In any case, I keep meaning to thank you subsribers, people who favorite and my loyal readers/reviewers. You guys are awesome. :)  
**


	17. Chapter 17

She shrugged a shoulder subtly in a vain attempt to ease a little of the discomfort the harness currently holding her wings tightly to her back. Before the limbs had burst from between her shoulder blades, and her eyes had bled until their current coloring settled, she'd been sent on an undercover assignment which required she wear a corset in order to fit in with the rest of the women at the assigned event. That was the only thing she could think of which compared at all with the discomfort of the straps crossing the folded limbs against her back, and buckled tight over her chest and stomach under the black t-shirt and faded denim jacket she wore with jeans.

Kisuke had come up with not only that terribly uncomfortable harness to keep her wings out of the way more easily, but also some sort of strange sort of holographic device currently strapped to a wrist which temporarily disguised her eyes, hair and teeth. There was a time limit of three hours before the power died on it, but while it was functioning, it was startlingly effective. The man was a genius, without a doubt.

So, instead of seeing a straight laced teenage boy in khakis, button down shirt and jacket walking with a blonde man in his 30s sporting a deep green t-shirt which stretched across his muscular chest with attendant jeans and something out of a nightmare in an altered jacket and bondage gear, people would see the aforementioned men and an ordinary Japanese teenage girl comfortable in denim, out for an evening on the town.

Their current outing was actually something slightly similar to the event that harness reminded Meg of. They were heading for the entertainment district to see if they could spot anyone doing rounds there, as well as to watch for any more Hollow activity.

Ishida glanced down at her upon the movement of her arm, as if sensing her unease. Meg gave the dark haired teen a reassuring grin in answer to his questioning glance. It was nothing. His lips turned up subtly in an answering smile, and navy eyes turned forward again.

When they'd first tried the contraption out, she'd had a hard time stopping herself from staring at her reflection. It had been _years_ since she'd looked so normal. The illusion was not at all how she used to look, but that didn't change the fact that now she could blend into any crowd she wanted to. If not for the discomfort of the harness, she would have sworn she'd gone through another series mutations and somehow came out human in the end.

It had taken the others a little while to get used to as well. Ichigo and Renji had both actually poked at her wings to reassure themselves they were still there until she swatted their hands away. Uryu, on the other hand, had stared just as hard as she had, then cleared his throat lightly and looked away at the blush he brought to her cheeks.

Irrationally, she wondered if he preferred her appearance as she was under the influence of Kisuke's invention, or as she was naturally.

Why was she even thinking like that, at all? They had to look out for operatives. There could be arrancar lurking nearby. This was the worst of times for such frivolous thought.

Anyway, she was still new to even the simplest of friendships. The only things she knew about romance was the seduction side of the equation, and that her knowledge was far from typical. Unexpected emotion was forced back with determination.

She glanced around at the suddenly thick crowd as they entered the plaza. Babble comprised of mostly Japanese filled the air, but it was tinted with other languages. The girl caught wisps of English, Spanish, a little Russian and German – even an Arabic phrase or two. The people themselves were just as colorful as the languages. Here a group of teenagers cavorted with each other, each member of the little tribe decked out in bright clothing which screamed 'TRENDY' as loudly as possible. There a family of tourists sporting phrase dictionaries and bags for souvenirs begged an unfortunate bystander for directions to a shop clear on the other side of town. From the looks of things, the only things being successfully exchanged between parties was confusion. Just around the corner a small family gathered together, clad in traditional kimonos, fresh from a wedding and taking the rare opportunity to enjoy a night out with each other.

Instinctively, she stepped a little closer to Ishida, but was careful to keep her demeanor relaxed and easy going. The young woman _hated_ crowds. She always had, and likely always will, but she did know how to handle herself in them.

Unobtrusively, the Quincy at her side squeezed her hand reassuringly – a gesture which she returned gratefully before they again separated. He was starting to pick up on her emotions with startling ease.

Oddly enough, she had the feeling she was starting to do the same with his. Concern rolled off of him more often than not, and she was constantly impressed with how impassive he kept his expression. His analytical, sharp mind was also a source of awe to her. At other times, restrained compassion pulled at his self-imposed bonds, or sorrow so much like her own drifted from the rich depths of his eyes.

Uryu was easily one of the most complicated people she had ever met. That complexity tugged at her just as much as the infinite emotion which so often roiled just under the thick walls he'd so painstakingly built over the years.

Almond eyes glanced up at Urahara when he paused, bringing the other two to a halt by default. His grey gaze was contemplating a trio of women chattering away at each other in English by a shop easily within earshot.

Two blondes and a brunette were dividing their attention between the handsome dirty blonde at her side and the display window. Clearly, the traditional apothecary was a poor cover for their blatant interest in Urahara. Not only did they spend most of their time glancing over and giggling, Meg found herself doubting that they were the types who would take much interest in the dried herbs and even less in the small, shriveled animals on display.

From their accents, she knew they were American – likely from somewhere on the west coast. There was nothing suspicious about them, honestly. They held themselves like typical tourists, and she was willing to bet the worst weapon in their personal arsenals was probably mace.

She just barely restrained herself from rolling her eyes.

On second thought, judging from the way their perfectly manicured hands fluttered as they talked and the way they let their purses hang so loosely, they would probably have no idea how to handle a fight outside of smacking ineffectively or screaming in their shrillest voices. Not even the best operative could fake the vibe they gave off quite so well.

Kisuke did; however, appear to be returning their interest, although she knew he was still keeping careful tabs on their surroundings. This supposedly harmless shopkeeper always watched the world around him carefully, regardless of how unfocussed he may seem at first glance.

However, she'd seen same the look in his eye in that of many other men, so she knew exactlywhat was on his mind. The girl immediately forgot all about the impending cramps threatening the muscles along her back, and the soreness in the joints of her invisible wings.

Oh, this could be _fun_.

She felt Ishida's eyes on her, and she shot him an exceedingly mischievous grin before pressing a finger to her lips in a request for his silence. Before anyone else could notice the wickedness in her masked eyes, she carefully returned her expression to that of innocent observation. He arched a brow, but shrugged and feigned interest in a group of businessmen conferring over a bench to their left.

"Meg?"

The young woman in question glanced up at Urahara's voice and tucked her hands in the jacket's pockets. Luckily enough, she'd diverted her attention from Uryu just in time for Kisuke to look down at her, "Yes?"

"Those girls," he nodded towards the group still tittering away, and spoke slowly enough for her to translate as he went. "They could have ah…information. Perhaps I can gain it over dinner?"

She was careful to keep her expression harmlessly attentive, although both she and the young man on her other side knew BS when they heard it.

"How would I ask in English?" The older man finally asked with a quirk of his lips.

The young woman nodded, after taking a moment to interpret and started in broken Japanese, "Ah. Well, you say," and she switched into carefully enunciated English, " 'Excuse me, miss, I saw your horse's face from across the way. Would you like a feedbag?'" She then returned to Japanese, "and then…they accept."

Horses were graceful creatures, after all. Quite lovely, really. What woman wouldn't want to be called graceful and lovely? She had only the purest of motives. Honest.

She nodded just as encouragingly at his repetition as he had when he'd pulled the laxative tea prank on her.

It was all she could do not to drop the sweet façade when she felt subtle waves of carefully restrained amusement from the Quincy. He studiously watched a gaggle of tourists stumble by – effectively blocking her and Kisuke's view of his face.

Urahara shot her one of his most charming grins, and then ventured over to the small group.

"Meg," Uryu finally turned, and leaned close to whisper the English words in her ear, his breath warm against the skin there, "that was very mean." Despite his whispered words, however, a small, amused grin twisted his lips.

The young woman smothered a laugh when the sound of an indignant exclamation followed quickly by a sharp slap made its way to their ears. She heard Ishida do much the same.

Ah, revenge was sweet.

They both watched as Kisuke stood there for a few moments in stunned silence after the trio had flounced off huffily. He stared after them before turning and rubbing his pinkened cheek. Deliciously puzzled look on his face, he made his way back to the two. This time, it was Uryu he addressed in Japanese. While she didn't quite catch all of the words, she knew exactly what he was asking the teen. It was just what she'd asked Captain Ukitake after the tea incident. "What did I just say?"

When Uryu dryly enlightened him, Urahara shot her an unreadable look, before he laughed and wagged a finger at her. "Karma, 'eh?"

She grinned slowly and nodded. "Very much."

He slung a friendly arm over her shoulders, and led the two further into the plaza. "You know," he again spoke slowly for her, "I am training you into the ground, when we get back." While his tone was light with good nature, she knew she was in for a world of pain.

That wicked grin remained firmly in place, however, as she kept the easy pace with him. "It was worth it."

* * *

**Many thanks to **alliaxandromeda **for the idea of revenge. I kinda took it and ran with it.**

**Also, I'm currently back tracking through this fic and Almost Home, and adding more detail and whatnot to past chapters. I just finished going through chapter one for this one, and I do think it's much better than it had been before. I'm not changing the events themselves (at least for this fic), but there will be more detail and whatnot as I go.**

**Take care all, feel free to let me know what you think.  
**


	18. Chapter 18

The World of the Living was always a source of interest to the serene captain. It wasn't often he had the chance to don a gigai and spend time out amongst souls still incarnated within bodies.

Not that he was doing much by way of interaction right about now.

Calm brown eyes lifted to the sky to track the tiny black specks making up a flock of birds as they winged their way across the white streaked, darkening blue. Strong hands tucked themselves into the casual blue jacket he wore over the jeans and charcoal t-shirt fitted against his toned chest.

In all of his years, nature had never loosed him from her grip. There was always a gentle thrill here, the warmth of awe there, and the constant peace she inspired welled deep within.

Even standing in the dusty alley across the street from the building his young companion had slipped into minutes prior, he was struck by her beauty. The early autumn breeze played with his long, snowy hair, even if it was bound by a holder in a low tail. Orange beams of setting sun's dying light filtered its way through breaches between warehouses and reflected from their windows. Gentle cooing of pigeons nesting somewhere above his head drifted down to his ears and added a gentle melody to the rushing harmony of traffic not far away. Each sensory note made an otherwise dull wait worth every peaceful moment.

Ukitake's deeply honeyed gaze fell from the sky when three unmistakable reiatsu patterns drifted closer.

A trio of figures strode down the sidewalk – the Quincy in perfect step with the teenage girl at his left, and his old, exiled friend, Urahara, slightly out of step with the other two on her other side.

It took him a moment to associate Meg's familiar reiatsu with the Japanese girl moving slightly stiffly between the two taller men. He would imagine that the sense of disorientation of seeing a stranger, but feeling she was someone he was beginning to think of as a friend, would be on par with the sensation most of the Living got the first time they witnessed a spiritual body leave a gigai.

He was about to raise his voice in greeting, when a familiar heaviness settled over them all like a blanket soaked in cold water. Four sets of eyes rose as one to the rotten tear ripping into the heavens. A man and woman clad in white stepped out of the wound – the man's blond hair and the woman's lavender whipping in the wind so far above them.

The Japanese girl flickered – once, twice – before the inhuman with bound wings stood in her place. Apparently that bit of technology shared the common gift of failing at just the wrong time.

As soon as glaring red and translucent blue gazes snapped to her, Meg's hand vanished under the dark jersey fabric clinging to her torso for the few seconds it took to release the clasps holding her wings in place. As soon as the straps finally fell away, the limbs stretched, and she stepped back from the men she had been standing between, inken eyes flashing to neon life.

"Oohh," the lavender haired woman crooned, as she slid her sword from its sheath "just _look_ at those pretty wings." The blade vanished in a whirl of wind. "I can't _wait_ to try them out!"

"Why don't you, then?" Was the only thing the blond man uttered before his own burning blade flashed from its sheath, and he plummeted for the white haired man with the immense, well aged power.

The captain dove from his artificial body, and let the soul candy carry the gigai to an alley a safe distance away. Smoothly, he drew his zanpakto and easily blocked the blow from the arrancar. Smoothly, he countered with a slash to the chest. Blood arched from the wound, and surprised red eyes met brown feirce as lightening.

That surprised look was all the Captain needed to know that he had already won.

Meg had barely enough time to clench her leathery wings tightly against her back before the gale force hit the three. Instead of being swept away, she only slid back a few feet, her arms crossed over her face to shelter it from the debris the wind carried. It was only a few moments before the neon flashed from between her arms, and the young woman whipped her hands out in front of her.

Urahara had hopped out of the way, and watched with interest to see what her reaction would be.

Uryu, however, stayed at her side. His bow had flashed into his hand already, but the air constantly pummeling them made aim impossible.

Electric green burned within the shadow cast by her arms, peeking dangerously out from the crack between denim clad forearms, before the vivid jade was joined by bright ivory of bared fangs. Heat waves radiated from the silent young woman on the ground, although the air temperature itself made no change. When they crept up to the blue eyed woman in the sky, the arrancar's arm visibly jolted. Muscle along her back clenched in reaction. With a shriek of outrage, the lavender haired woman yanked back her blade, only to dive down at the offending woman.

Clear of the winds, Uryu was finally able to let loose a blazing blue arrow at the woman swiftly closing in on them.

She twisted at the last moment, but the impact of the bolt with her shoulder drew another infuriated scream from the arrancar. Her trajectory veered towards the young archer. Enraged ice bored into impenetrable sapphire when their eyes met.

Before she could reach him, however, she was yanked off course when a bloodied hand fisted in her hair.

"Fool," the wounded blond hissed, and savagely dragged her back by glossy purple. "We're finished for now." Her growl went ignored. The gash in his chest stained his jacket a red so dark it verged on black. Another slice bled in his left side and again along his right bicep, courtesy of the Captain he'd so foolishly tried to engage.

Before any of the others could stop them, he disappeared with the woman through the freshly reopened garganta.

The night was once again still.

Uryu's bow vanished as he knelt by Meg, who'd collapsed to her knees where she'd been standing, gasping for breath. A graceful hand was pressed to her shoulder. She smiled wearily up at him, and covered his hand with hers. Wordlessly, they both understood there were no injuries between the two. Quietly, she took his long fingered hand, and rose to her feet, concerned gaze moving to unharmed Captain Ukitake. Before she could ask if he was alright, they were joined by the missing member of their party.

Too late, the substitute ran from the building, open black jacket flaring with the movement. "Crap, what did I miss?"

"Just a small game," Kisuke spoke quietly for the first time. He hadn't seen the need to interfere. "We should go before our other problem realizes what happened here."

* * *

Several hours had passed since they've returned to the shop. Everything was quiet, calm. They had held council already, refueled, and now were either asleep, or finishing their evenings quietly.

Kisuke, however, was searching for the young boarder who had drawn the recent trouble to the group.

He found her, alone, perched in the underground training grounds, high atop the rock outcropping closest to the entrance to the chamber. Her knees had been drawn up to her chest, her arms wrapped around her legs, and leathery wings arched about her, chin propped on a knee. Silently, she stared off into the distance.

She still looked tired – worn and sad.

In a flash, he stood by her. "Not a bad view, 'eh?"

Her slightly bruised looking didn't move from their far away focus, but her soft voice did rise, "Kisuke…I can't stay."

A big part of him had been expecting this. However, he still felt the need to play it off. "Oh? Why is that?" His tone was light, conversational, even as somber eyes peered down at her.

Several moments of silence stretched between them, before she murmured in broken Japanese, "You…all…hurt. Because me, you hurt." Inky eyes squeezed shut, and he almost felt the painful breath she drew. "Don't…" Her quiet voice broke, and he gave her the moment she needed to steady herself again, "Never…wanted you hurt. Anyone."

Shadowed grey eyes watched her as she kept her own gaze off in the distance. He knew the futility of reassurance, the empty noises anyone else would make in an effort to make her feel better. Instead, he asked the question he already knew the answer to, "Where would you go?"

She cringed, and pressed her forehead to her knees, curling into herself in the process. "Back." Her tone spoke eloquently to the fact she knew that to be little more than a death wish.

"I see." With a sigh, he knelt by her. "Meg," he pressed a hand to her knee, then continued when her head rose, and gaze locked with his, "It doesn't need to be like that."

The young woman furrowed her brows as she translated, then slowly frowned, her careful contemplation of his face unwavering. "How? They…they will keep…" She bit her lip. "Trying. They come back until…they get me. Until they get or kill everyone."

Kisuke shook his head. "No," he squeezed her hand. "Have faith in us. They will not get us. If they get you, we will help you escape."

Her inhuman eyes held a symphony of all too human hopes and fears, and again, she simply asked, "How?"

"We'll find a way." Smoothly, he shifted his grip on her hand, and pulled her to her feet. "Now, enough of this. Come upstairs and rest."

He could tell she didn't quite believe him. Perhaps she didn't know how. Perhaps the guilt and hangover from overuse of reiatsu made it too hard for her to comprehend all of his words, but still, she trailed after him, exhaustion in each step.

* * *

**REALLY sorry for the delay in the chapter! Life's been a little on the overwhelming side, lately. Hey, it happens, as we all know. :)**

**I hope the chapter's worth the wait. The story itself will probably be done in a few more chapters, but I will be writing a follow up, if anyone's interested. It should be fun. ;)**

**I have part of the next chapter started, so that'll be forthcoming soonishlike.  
**

**Also, since I can't respond via PM - Mary Lou, thank you for the review! I'm very happy you're enjoying the story!  
**


	19. Chapter 19

The first day back at school was excruciating. Ordinarily, Uryu honestly didn't mind the classes, books and teachers. In fact, he usually enjoyed a number of them, but he found himself unable to do so, this particular day. Unsurprisingly, his English teacher was impressed at his improvement over the summer, but the usual sense of subtle satisfaction was overshadowed by anxiety born of the events of the past several weeks.

The end of the day took forever in arriving.

He'd endured Keigo's foolishness through lunch – good to see some things never change – his remaining classes, the craft club, and finally, _finally_, he was allowed to step into the warm sunshine. Tension funneled out of his tight shoulders as soon as the fresh air hit his face. Resonance radiated from somewhere to his right, accompanied by the steadying energy signature of the visiting shinigami.

A certain white-haired man and Japanese girl looked up from their spot from under a nearby tree, as soon as he'd stepped into the bright sunlight.

Ukitake and Meg.

Pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, he strode towards the two, repressing a grin as he went. "Here to escort me home?" While his tone was dry on the surface, warmth flowed easily enough within the question itself.

Jyushiro smiled pleasantly at the younger man. "Just to keep you company, that's all."

Uryu lost the battle with the knowing grin which had been lurking behind his control this whole time, and squeezed the young woman's hand in silent greeting when she and Jyushiro met him halfway before letting it fall away. "Right."

The Quincy had felt her guilt following that last battle acutely, despite the fact she'd done her best to shield him from it. It was painfully evident that while she had been making steady improvement in controlling her own reiatsu as well as that in the atmosphere, she still had a very long way to go.

The bond they had unwittingly forged also made it next to impossible for her to hide such strong emotion from him, as well. He understood the difficulty is attaining that control, although his own early struggles with that task were little more than faded memories, now. The young man found himself wondering just how much he managed to hide from her. Navy eyes glanced at the holographic disguised woman at his side contemplatively.

He found himself unnerved by the sheer normalcy of the eyes drifting to his own. It was strange how he would rather be looking into the natural inhuman ebony, rather than the artificial brown curiously watching his. Words died before reaching his lips. Instead he smirked a little, pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, and returned his gaze to the path before them.

The three of them walked in companionable silence, but judging from the curious looks the few students also heading home late, Uryu was sure he'd be the focus of the rumor-mill come morning. Uryu Ishida walking home with a mysterious girl and who had to be her father. What would people think?

He didn't really care.

At least maybe the whispers questioning his preference in girls would stop. Who knows?

A thought occurred as they drew closer to the house he shared uneasily with Ryuken. He was walking side by side with a Shinigami. Great. Maybe his father was working late again?

His father's sharp energy practically refracted through the intricately carved window set into the door separating the severe man from the outside world. So much for that idea.

Ukitake came to a stop at the edge of the perfectly manicured lawn. "Don't worry, Uryu, I'll wait here." He'd apparently heard enough about his father to know when he wasn't wanted.

The flawless green of the expanse of grass from curb to building gave a distinctly western feel to the property, but the rustling gingko trees – long believed to bring luck, though Uryu doubted their effectiveness – strategically placed throughout nodded to the tradition inherent in the family's nature. The house itself was primarily western in architecture, with the steepled roof, and pale blue siding, but the clean lines of the woodwork framing the windows and intricate door added the same eastern taste that the trees provided.

Unfortunately, that front entry had already opened, and the silver haired man who bore such a striking resemblance to his son was already striding casually over the small group paused at the edge of the lawn. Like his son, his sharp white shirt was buttoned to the collar, and the knot in his tie, blue with tiny white crosses symmetrically arranged throughout the fabric, remained impeccably placed at his throat, despite the slight breeze ruffling the loose expanse hanging down his chest, and the silver of his unexpectedly casually styled hair.

"…I'm sorry for anything he says," Uryu muttered to the perplexed Ukitake standing to his left, and the uncertain Meg to his right before his father reached earshot.

"Why don't you introduce me to your friends, Uryu?" The man inquired coolly, upon coming to a stop before the three. He spared no glance at Ukitake, instead keeping the entirety of his sharp attention on the silent girl at his son's side.

"This is Meg," the younger Ishida pushed his glasses higher on his nose, watching his father carefully through narrowed eyes. "And Jyushiro Ukitake."

Ukitake's polite nod went unacknowledged. Apparently, the man was going to ignore the peaceful man he saw only as an ancestral enemy for as long as he possibly could.

That severe glare instead flickered between the hapless girl and his irritated son. "Of course. Would you like to come in for a moment?"

"While we appreciate your hospitality," Ukitake placed a protective hand on the young woman's shoulder, prompting her to glance up at him. "I'm afraid we must – "

"I insist," Steel met rock at those two simple words.

The two young people glanced at each other while the two elders battled wills. Uryu knew his father would find out about what was happening at one point or another, but he'd hoped for the encounter to be a little less…tense. He should have known better.

"He is my son, Mr. Ukitake," Ryuken intoned in a soft, firm voice.

The powerful hand on Meg's shoulder relaxed infinitesimally. "True. A few moments, then."

Uryu wanted to groan. This isn't particularly promising.

* * *

Ryuken didn't give any of them a chance to say anything more before turning on his heal and striding purposefully back to his home. True, he had invited a Shinigami, and a powerful one at that, onto his property, but the reward of examining the disturbing girl a little more closely was worth the price of dirtying his home with the presence of the white-haired man.

He'd felt his son's spiritual pressure changing during Uryu's physical absence. The young man had no idea of how much his father knew of what happened over that past month, and that was just the way the elder Ishida wanted it. Usually, he kept the careful air of apathy up regardless of his son's activities, but there were some things a father cannot ignore.

Cold blue eyes took in the trio as they stepped through the threshold to the tastefully decorated entry room – a careful mix of west and east yet again. The furniture was antique woodwork of German origin, but the clean lines of the wall hangings were distinctly Japanese. Everything was nearly sterile in its spotlessness.

The Soul Reaper held himself with a calm air of cautious certainty, but maintained a respectful silence as he closed the door behind them.

He dismissed the man from his attention, instead turning to the seemingly shy young woman who lingered between his son and the Reaper. "Your name is Meg?" From the way she would furrow her brow in concentration when someone spoke, the surgeon had the distinct impression that she had some sort of problem understanding what was being said. He wondered if it was of some sort of physical origin, or mental.

The girl nodded, cautious almond eyes bravely met the cold steel of his, but she remained silent.

Ryuken's mouth turned down disapprovingly. "Can't you speak?"

Her shoulders tensed slightly at the authoritative tone. "…yes. I can." The voice was smooth, very quiet, but her accent was painfully evident even from that short statement.

That explained her general silence and near constant expression of concentration, at least. Japanese was not her first language. A corner of his mind analyzed the accent – mostly American, but entirely too clipped to be from any of the areas he was familiar with. Where in the world did they find this girl?

He spared a glance at his son, and then allowed his vision to soften from the physical world he strove to focus on for so many years. Powerful spirit ribbons of the purest white sprang up around Uryu, the Shinigami's standing in his entry way stood out glaringly scarlet – pulling irritatingly at his attention – but his eyes snapped again to the girl standing between the two. Powerful ribbons wrapped around her as well, several entwined intimately with several his son's, but hers appeared to glisten with an otherworldly light – subtle blues and greens reflecting off of them as they swayed in the ether.

His hand snapped out between them, and caught the ribbon flowing from her heart. Upon contact, she gasped and froze, eyes gone wide and muscles gone hard. Breath came shallowly. The stunned, confused gaze she fixed upon him didn't surprise him.

What did surprise him, however, was what he felt emanating from the ribbon held so firmly in his calloused hand. Eyes a few shades lighter than his son's widened with realization – she could have been a Quincy, there was no question of it, but she most definitely was not. Something very wrong had been done to her, and it had somehow extended to his son.

What the hell happened?

"Ryuken!" He barely registered Uryu's angry exclamation, or the young man's glare.

Suddenly, he found his wrist grabbed fiercely by the shinigami. Liquid, exquisitely controlled power jolted along the length of his arm. His fingers released the ribbon, releasing the girl from her energetic confinement, and allowing her to stumble, trembling and bewildered, back into his son's arms.

"We are leaving." The man spoke forcefully, glaring fiercely into the elder Quincy's irritated eyes.

"Not before my questions are answered," He replied coolly, smoothly pulling from the death god's grip.

"No." Ukitake remained between him and the two young people.

Uryu had pressed a hand to Meg's dark hair as she rested her brow lightly against the curve between his neck and shoulder. Her palms rested on his chest toned, his free hand circled carefully to the small of her back. There, it held firm against the twin ridges of muscle on either side of her spine.

She took a few steadying breath and reluctantly pulled away from the strong young man at the shinigami's forceful response. "I'm ok," she murmured before slowly raising her eyes to the midnight blue.

The young man nodded and allowed his hands to fall carefully from her figure.

Ryuken first found himself slightly taken aback by the tenderness of the exchange. What did the two of them do to attain that twining of ribbons? Blue eyes narrowed with suspicion, and his jaw tensed when he noted the careful way his son drew his hand from the girl's back. It was as if he were avoiding bumping his hand into something that wasn't visible.

Ukitake pulled the door open himself; shot Ryuken another angry glare, before turning back to Uryu. "Orihime said she'll be here to meet you in the morning." At Uryu's nod, he rested a gentle hand to Meg's shoulder and guided her out the door after her brief wave to Uryu, before following himself.

Alone in the suddenly empty entryway, father turned to son. "You have some explaining to do." The silver haired man sighed at the dark look he got in return, before taking the younger man's arm, and leading him deeper into the domicile.

* * *

**I've been wanting to write Ryuken for quite a while now. He just strikes me as such an interesting character. Sure as hell would _not_ want him as a father, though. Egads. Hope yall enjoy! As always, reviews are very welcome. :)  
**


	20. Chapter 20

Ryuken had allowed his son to precede him into the energetically shielded examination room deep within the bowels of the house's basement. Energetic bodies could be injured just as easily as the physical bodies humans are born into, if they are struck in just the right way. Likewise, there were a number of techniques available to heal those unseen forms and apparently his father was aware of both facts.

If Uryu had been stunned at the discovery of his father's Quincy powers, he'd been even more shocked at what had lain hidden in those places forbidden to the eyes of children. The massive chamber concealed in his father's hospital hadn't been the only customization his father had made over the years – far from it, in fact.

This room was another. Walls, floor and ceiling where all sterile white. An examination table was bolted to the floor in the center of the room, and cabinets for his father's trade tools lined on of the walls – all were built of hard, brushed steel. A dormant monitor sat in one corner, awaiting use. Lastly, were a pair of chairs made up of the same stuff as the table and cabinets – one hard-backed and stationary, the other little more than a stool on wheels.

Currently, Ryuken was pulling a stethoscope with a blood pressure cuff from the cabinet, as well as a needle and tubes for the blood draws he was about to perform.

Long familiar with the grill by now, Uryu unbuttoned his shirt and placed the garment on the corner of the table, neatly folded. The young warrior bore a number of scars over his ripcord toned torso – the star gifted by his father almost over his heart, twisted burns along his back from the form he took while fighting Kurotuchi in the Soul Society, a faded slice across his stomach from Renji. These went ignored as he dropped sullenly into the hard backed chair opposite his father, who'd claimed the stool. "This isn't necessary," he curtly informed his father, but allowed the cuff to be fitted around his upper arm.

The young man was rewarded with a dry glance before his father placed the disk of the stethoscope into the bend of his elbow, and began pumping the cuff tight. "It is, Uryu. I need to see what damage that girl did to you. Now, be quiet for a minute."

He allowed the man he both loved and loathed finish his task, before muttering darkly, "I'm fine – she didn't do a thing to me."

Ryuken arched a brow and removed the cuff. "Oh?" Firm fingers probed at his son's throat for inflamed glands, and shot the younger man a knowing look. "Then what did the two of you do to each other?"

Pink crept up Uryu's pale neck, and rose to his cheeks, "Nothing! Sh-she's just a friend." He replied lamely.

"Really," came the dry response as he allowed his son to climb onto the table before he brought the buds of the stethoscope to his ears. "Breath deeply," he demanded before pressing the cold disk to his son's warm skin. The silvered man smirked at the mild glare his son shot him at the temperature. After listening to his breathing and heartbeat, he removed the stethoscope and placed the tool on the table. The wrap came off easily from the syringe. "Then how did your ribbons become so entwined?"

Uryu sighed as the rubber tourniquet was tied to his bicep. "It's…a long story." He paused as the needle entered his vein, and his father began the draw. "Urahara said you should probably retype me."

A silver brow arched, "Why? We already know your blood type."

"Ah…we don't anymore." Sapphire eyes watched as the tubes filled. He hated the awkward feeling filling his chest.

"Son." The deep voice held the warning note only a father could produce.

"Ryuken, I'm not telling you what happened while you have a needle in my arm." The bespectacled teen dryly informed.

"Fine," the doctor finished the draw in silence. Once syringe was extracted and the bandade in place, Ryuken sat back and fixed his son with a steely glare. "Talk."

Uryu sighed and slid from the table to retrieve his shirt and slide it back on, facing away from his father to block any attempts to read his eyes. "I was poisoned and Urahara pulled an antidote from her blood."

His father held up a strong, elegant hand. "Back up. How were you poisoned? And with what?"

"Um," he buttoned his shirt with more attention than the simple task really required. "Smoke pellets of some kind." Silently, he prayed he wouldn't be pressed for details, although he was certain of the futility of the act. "She'd been exposed in the past, so she was already immune. Kisuke was able to pull the chemical out of her blood, dosed me with it, and that's probably why we're bound now."

Ryuken narrowed his eyes. "And how did you meet this girl?"

Uryu cringed inwardly, and studiously tucked his shirt in. He knew that question was coming, and he had just as little idea of how to best answer it now than when that knowledge had originally sunk in. "We fought her."

Silence.

The dark haired young man could feel his father's gaze burning holes in his back. When he looked over his shoulder, he found the elder frowning disapprovingly. "She's a friend now."

"Tell me, son, what exactly is she?" Calculating blue swept over the flushed young man. "You did notice that strange sheen on her spirit ribbons, didn't you?"

Uryu sighed. "She's not really human." He crossed his arms across his chest in an unconscious defensive pose. "We don't really know what she is." He paused and leaned back against the examination table, before muttering more to himself than his father. "I don't think she really knows what she is, either."

"Hmph," the elder Ishida shook his head. "Fools. Why did those shinigami take her in if they didn't even know what she was? For that matter, why are they allowing her out in the open? How can you know she can be trusted in the first place?"

The younger pushed his glasses up his nose, and shot his father an irritated look. "Did you notice the strange hollow disappearances?"

"Of course," his father stood, and began stowing the samples and putting away the tools he had just been using.

"She was one of those behind them. Kisuke thought it would be better if we captured her instead of killing her, since she wasn't working alone." The youth kept his eyes stubbornly locked on the stool his father had occupied minutes before.

A silver brow lofted, "Who was she working with?"

The younger man shifted his weight, "…as near as we can tell, some government agency from overseas. She said she's never given those details."

"And that doesn't seem suspicious to you?" Ryuken paused to shoot his son an incredulous, though somehow disgusted, look.

Uryu frowned, "Well…it did at first." He met his father look with a glare of his own at seeing the skepticism. "She's not lying."

"Hm," his father closed the steel door of the cabinet with a soft clang. "I suppose you would know."

The youth's jaw tightened. "Yes, I would."

"So, what precisely is your interest in her, then?" The elder mirrored the youth's pose – his arms crossing over his lean, yet powerful chest.

The young man paused for a beat. "I don't have any." Never mind the fact that the feel of her silken hair under his palm and the warmth of her toned body resting against his rushed back to him in a thrill of sensory memory. Again, he cursed the heat rushing up his neck. "She's a friend, and one in need."

For the longest time, his father said nothing – only watching his son in that calculating, infuriatingly cold way of his. "I would like to speak with her, Uryu."

Sapphire eyes widened. "Why?"

"I need to understand more about what happened to you," he sighed and shook his head at his son's dubious look. "I won't bite her."

A dark brow rose, and he made a derisive sound in the back of his throat. "You may as well have this afternoon."

Ryuken shook his head, "I won't again."

Uryu honestly wasn't sure whether to believe his father was being honest with him or if he was playing another game. An idea struck. "At Urahara's shop. That's the only way you'll speak with her."

His father watched him measuringly. The silver haired man knew the defensive, protective look his son now wore. He'd worn it himself many times before. "Fine. Urahara's shop it is."

* * *

**Hope it was worth the wait! Enjoy, and review, should you feel so inclined.**

**Off to work I go.  
**


	21. Chapter 21

Uryu found himself unaccountably nervous. As he knew what would happen, the young man had ended up as the go between for his father and Urahara's shop. It was only logical, after all.

His father still refused direct contact with shinigami, or even ex-shinigami. The dark-haired archer figured the man who had sired him was trying to make a point of his morals, or perhaps attempt a play at power over the meeting. Appearances where everything after all, weren't they?

The shopkeeper had of course needed to make 'preparations' for the visit – of what sort, Uryu wasn't entirely sure. They were most likely something to further seal the secrets Kisuke had hidden in and under the shop. Part of this was also likely his counter to Ryuken's moves in this little game between the two men. That wouldn't surprise the younger Ishida at all. Urahara was fond of games, after all – especially games like these.

It was absolutely infuriating. He swore he'd take an arrow to himself if he caught himself turning into either one of the fools.

The unfortunate girl caught in the middle of all of this had remained unfailingly calm through the whole time, but he could feel occasional waves of anxiety ripple past Meg's guard from time to time. They had been subtle enough that he had barely noticed the first few, however, as time moved on, he noticed them enough to check in on her. They may have been reflections of his own unease, but his brief visits always seemed to have a relaxing, soothing effect on them both.

Regardless, she had been badly shaken by Ryuken's actions the time they had initially met, and it had apparently taken a training session against Renji's bankai to bring her back to a semblance of normal, in addition to Ukitake's calm explanation of reiraku.

Not that he could blame her.

His grandfather had been a great deal more gentle with him than Ryuken had been with Meg, but even the caring first touch of his sensei's hand on his ribbon had sent an uncomfortable jolt through his young being. The kind teacher had done his best to explain the entire concept to him beforehand, but even with that knowledge, the unsettling feeling lingered for a number of days following.

So back and forth he went, careful of the unmarked helicopters, hollows and just about every too friendly stranger until finally the day had arrived. His nerves seemed out of place. After all of the negotiation and infuriating posturing, the event should have been a relief. Instead, he felt as if he were going into battle. He almost regretted the khakis and simple white shirt he'd donned instead of his Quincy uniform. The silver haired man at his side wore his own slacks and formal shirt and tie like a suit of armor.

Uryu had barely restrained the annoyed comment he was tempted to make at the superior look Ryuken had given the small boy at the front of the shop as they entered. The young man shot his father a glare at the withering glance he'd given Tessai when the man had met them upon entering the building. The muscular kidou master had finally escorted them back to the meeting room he was already so familiar with.

Urahara and Ukitake were already there with Meg, one on either side. The three were already settled at the round table, facing the door. As soon as it had slid open, each set of eyes rose to the figures framed by the structure.

Ukitake was not wearing his gigai, opting instead for the shihakusho and haori of his rank. Hard brown eyes rose to the elder Ishida when they were escorted in. Apparently, the young woman's initial distress had not been forgotten by the captain.

For her part, Meg wore the shirt and pants Uryu had put together for her. Leathery wings were held closely to her rigid back as she sat at attention. Freakish eyes softened briefly when they met Uryu's, but again grew guarded when they passed to Ryuken.

Kisuke, though, remained as relaxed as ever. As soon as shadowed eyes settled upon father and son, an absurd grin lit upon his face, and he rose to his feet, fan aflutter. "Uryu, welcome back!" The grin spread subtly at the mild glare from the silvered archer for the lack of traditional protocol, "And Mr. Ishida. Always a pleasure." He motioned to the empty space at the table. "Please join us."

Once the two had settled and Ururu had set cups of tea before the newcomers, the shopkeeper again spoke, up, "Now, what can we do for you?"

Ryuken's jaw clenched lightly at the ex-shinigami's voice, but steely eyes remained on the wary young woman on the other side of the table. "I merely wish to know what has been done to my son."

The infuriating fan snapped open and hid the shopkeeper's grin. "Now, Mr. Ishida, what happens between two young people in l-"

Uryu went scarlet.

The young man was spared further embarrassment when Ryuken interrupted coldly. "That is not what I meant. That very sentiment makes me wonder just what sort of establishment you run here, Kisuke." Steely blue eyes returned from the infuriating green-clad man to the distrustful young woman by him. If Ryuken had been in a better mood, he might have spared a chuckle at the confused look on her face.

Her usually smooth brow was subtly wrinkled as she struggled to keep up with the Japanese flying around, and color flooded her cheeks once she caught up. Wide-eyed, she glanced over to the blond man sitting at her side.

"A very respectable establishment, of course," his smile held all the charm of a fox on the hunt, and his sharp, shadowed eyes rested upon Ryuken.

The doctor made derisive sound in the back of his throat, and ignored the reply in favor of assessing the young woman across the table from him. Easily, he slid into accented, though perfectly fluent, English, "Meg, is it? Am I correct in assuming you speak English?" This time, he did spare a smirk at the startled expressions from Meg and Ukitake.

His son and Urahara had long known of his multi-lingual skills.

"Ah," impossibly dark eyes met his, almost hesitantly, but they remained firmly locked once they made contact. "Yes, sir. I can."

"Good," as strange as the creature was opposite him, he kept his gaze level. His cold face, he schooled into a firm, slightly disapproving expression. She may not be completely human, but he was sure she was still young enough to respond to the strict personality he showed his son. "What are you doing here?"

Leathery wings adjusted against her back as an ebony brow arched. She shared a slightly uncertain look with Ukitake before replying, "Avoiding trouble?"

"And what trouble is that?" A frown further curled his lips.

"Trouble of the military kind." Oddly, there was little inflection in her voice, and her face had taken a curiously blank mask to it at those few words. Only her neon-pierced eyes held the barest hints of pain.

Blue eyes narrowed at the change, and bored deeply into the inhuman depths of hers – seeking out her very soul. "Japan doesn't have a military."

"No," her already soft voice dropped a decibel, "but America does."

"What," he leaned forward threateningly, "have you gotten Uryu into?"

She sighed softly, wary eyes sad, but warm when they settled upon the young Quincy. Sorrow painted its subtle mark over the cracking mask. "Nothing, if I can help it."

Unconsiously, Uryu leaned towards her slightly, and a hand lifted a centimeter, as if to reach for her. However, the youth retained his control, and only allowed his eyes to meet hers.

He watched the two of them for a moment. Even a fool could see that the connection ran deep. "What exactly are you?"

Freakish eyes flashed to his again, and she frowned. That inhuman gaze held a hint of unspoken memory. Her voice was gentle, smooth – directly contradicting her disturbing features. "Just a girl trying to do the right thing, sir. I would never purposefully hurt your son." The muscle in her jaw went tense, "I would do anything to keep him safe."

Frowning, he leaned back again, examining the creature closely. The elder Ishida suspected this was a girl who was more often than not underestimated in almost all ways. His focus went soft, as he again observed the glossy spirit ribbons surrounding her. It was evident she had yet to control her own spiritual power from how the strands leaned away from him, though slanted towards Uryu's. "And how," his voice had dropped in tone, while still hard, it was now quieter than it had been, "do you intend to do that? It is my understanding that your very presence is what brought these…problems."

Ukitake placed a gentle hand over one of hers, and murmured softly, "If you don't want to answer…"

She shook her head, and offered her friend a smile, "It's ok."

She returned her attention to Ryuken. "In any way I need to." The girl took a deep breath, and straightened her back, dark gaze taking on a sharp intensity. "Sir…I may not know what it's like to have family, but I do know that despite your actions," she paused meaningfully, and did not flinch at the scorching glare he dealt her at her true meaning, "you're only here because you care about your son. I don't know how much you believe of what I've said, or how much you know of everything that's going on, but if you're truly that worried about threats towards Uryu, you're targeting the wrong person."

The elder Ishida watched her measuringly. A corner of his mind noted the fact that she refused to address him by anything beyond the generic English honorific. The silvered man grudgingly admitted to himself that he wasn't entirely sure of how to interpret that. His fingers drummed the table sharply, and sharpened his gaze.

Before the man could utter any of the sharp words formulating on his tongue, the door to the room slid sharply open, and Tessai fixed Kisuke with an intense look. "Apologies for the interruption, boss. It appears there's some trouble out here."

Urahara looked up sharply, then rose with a flap of his hand at the group now watching the two with varying levels of concern. "Please, continue. I'm sure it's just an upset customer."

No sooner had the door closed behind him, than he reappeared, this time far more sober. "Renji and Ichigo need our help with the James Bond issue."

Strong, cold heaviness settled across their shoulders, and en masse, they tensed.

"…and our friends from Hueco Mundo are making an appearance as well," Kisuke darkly stated the obvious.

* * *

**Hmm...need more Kisuke/Ryuken interraction in the future. The two are so fun to bounce off of each other. Hope you guys enjoy. Thank you for reading, and always thank you for the feedback! :)**


	22. Chapter 22

Shoten doors opened to reveal a sky heavy with blackened clouds.

Grotesque beasts of bone white lined the horizon and speckled the bruised atmosphere. A chorus of baleful cries greeted the group of warriors once they made their exit from the building. Nestled within the midst of the hoard, the male and the female arrancar loomed. Wind whipped blonde and lavender hair, and rustled colorless clothing. Vibrant red and clear blue glares shot their ways down to the five warriors below.

Even as his volatile brown eyes scanned the massive expanse above, Ukitake's smooth voice rose with easy authority, "Uryu, Meg, assist Renji and Ichigo. Kisuke and I will handle this and join you shortly."

Within the blink of an eye, Uryu was traveling in the direction of his friends' swelling reiatsu with the winged woman close on his heels. Her training had finally begun to pay off; at least insofar as being able to keep up with the young archer's hirenkyaku and the reapers' shunpo for short distances via her own winged variation. Ryuken's soft curse was lost in the din of wind and unearthly cries before he vanished after his son and the young woman at the heart of all of this.

Silently, the captain wished them well.

While Meg was for all intents and purposes a beginner by way of energetic warfare, she more than made up for it in physical skill and stamina. He had faith that Uryu and his reluctant father would be able to make up for the difference. Judging from the badly injured Rukia currently under Tessai's care until her return to Soul Society, the humans had hit upon some truly nasty refinements to their technology.

All that mattered at the moment, however, was the battle at hand. That was what the entirety of his formidable focus fixated on.

Brilliant blue-white energy blossomed from the captain of the thirteenth's fingertips, only to fly at the hollows making hast after the departing three. Kisuke's brilliant, crackling red attack flew from his palm as he dispatched the few Jyushiro's attack had spared.

Sogyo no Kotowari's naked steel glinted dimly in the muffled light from streetlights below, when Ukitake flashed to meet the male arrancar who was attempting to take pursuit as well. The white haired man's flawlessly tempered chrome blade met raw molten red of Raritan's weapon in a clash of flame and spark.

Below and behind them, the firework scream of Benihime's deadly scarlet assault flew at the female companion - effectively blocking her escape.

More hollow appeared, but while the reaper and ex-reaper were occupied by the higher level beings, they could do nothing about the newcomers.

"Why," lightening arched around the captain and arrancar as again their swords clashed, "are you so intent," the captain easily side-stepped a savage thrust to his stomach, "on capturing," his own strike to the arrancar's bare neck was blocked just in time, "that girl?"

The blonde growled and pushed himself off of the shinigami's blade, before whipping an arch of flame from the point of his weapon at his white haired opponent. "That would be none of your business, old man!"

Ukitake calmly stepped out of the way, "I'm afraid you are very much mistaken." One strong, graceful hand rose, "Bakudo number nine, Geki."

Red eyes widened, even as a glow of the same shade surrounded the blonde arrancar. His body went rigid under the confinement. "No!"

"Now, tell me." The white-haired captain loomed over the paralyzed enemy, "What is your interest in the girl?"

His lips set themselves in an angry grimace, as his muscles grew hard against the energetic confinement imposed upon him. Those blazing eyes flickered from Jyushiro to a spot over the shinigami's shoulder.

In one fluid move, Ukitake reversed his grip on the hilt, then swept his sealed blade back into the gut of the oncoming hollow and cleanly through its side. Severe russet eyes narrowed slightly when the number of lower hollow approaching grew at the arrancar's silent bidding. Moving with the surety of centuries of experience, his blade rent through spectral flesh and bone of three attackers.

The paralysis dropped from the crimson-eyed man, however, and he lunged with an overhead slice at the captain immediately after the third beast had been dispatched. A growl slipped from his throat when he found his blade blocked just before it could find its mark.

His foolish gamble at distracting the white haired captain had failed, much to his fiery displeasure.

"I see," the white-haired captain intoned, just before his gore stained blade swiped the adversary's aside. Electricity again spider webbed along the bruised underbelly of the heavens. "You are truly that determined to hide your true intention then, hm?"

"You only need know that I will go _through_ you, old man, if you don't step aside," the blonde snarled. His weapon, colored a molten scarlet and brilliant with heat, moved in to slice at Ukitake's face.

"No," he leaned back just enough to avoid the blow. Silken strands of white lost a few inches, and pale flesh warmed at the feel of the fiery blade's passage. The superior swordsman brought his zanpakto up into the arrancar's ribs under his right arm. "That you will not." Like the arching white light piercing the darkness around them, the shinigami's blade sliced cleanly through the arrancar's chest, then found its freedom by way of left shoulder.

Wide red eyes faded. A sickening gurgle rose from the dying man's throat when life-blood dribbled from a corner of the parted lips. His body, now free of its spirit, separated and fell from the sky.

* * *

Urahara and his lavender-haired opponent felt Raritan's reiatsu vanish before they saw his rapidly disintegrating body fall from the sky. Ukitake shot off in the direction of the remaining group of hollow which now drifted towards the shopkeeper and their remaining commander.

"Oh my, it looks like your boyfriend has lost," Benihime met the sparking blade, while her bearer donned a charming smile. That smile contrasted the disquieting sharpness of shadowed eyes in a disturbing clarity of character.

Translucent blue eyes fixed their disgusted glare upon shadowed grey. Her own lips curled down in an angry frown. "Serves the fool right." White of the sleeve flared just past her elbow billowed when she whipped her blade back for her next attack.

"Is that so?" A hand pressed to the striped hat which shadowed the eyes glittering dangerously from under its hem. He lithely slipped to the side in order to avoid the thick rope of electricity she hurled at him. "Lovers' quarrel?"

"Don't you ever shut _up_?" Irritation rang clearly in the high voice, as she bodily lunged at the green clad man, her electric blade desperately seeking flesh.

Infuriatingly, he chuckled. Worse yet, he denied her blade's thirst by way of easy flash step around her simple attack. He pivoted gracefully, and brought Benihime around to rend a shallow gash along her back. "What's wrong with a little conversation, hm?"

Crimson stained lavender as she twirled to face him again. The infuriated cry ripping from her throat resolved itself into screamed words, "This is a _fight_. I'm not gonna waste my energy on _conversation_." Furiously, she again lunged, aiming her blade to wipe that horrid grin off of his entirely too relaxed face.

"Perhaps," he side stepped, again, hand not leaving his hat. The tip of his deadly princess opened a gash along the woman's cheekbone. "What exactly are you fighting for?"

"Humph, what stupid question," she scoffed, and pointed her one blade at him. A ball of red energy began forming at its tip. "I'm fighting to s…" Her angry voice paused with a growl, before continuing, "…to get rid of _you_!"

The crimson ball flashed brightly, and with a subsonic boom, shot at the ex-reaper.

"Oh, really." He vanished from her field of view, courteousy of shunpo, only to appear to her right. His hand had finally left that ridiculous hat. She could now see his eyes more clearly, and had she a heart to acknowledge, she would have felt it plummet at the cold calculation within those grey depths. "Sing, Benihime."

The bladed princess's scarlet song rushed at her in a blossom of brilliant sanguine glory. The soprano scream of fireworks shooting into the heavens filled her ears, even as unspeakable terror filled the crystalline blue of her eyes.

Her sonido wasn't quite fast enough to avoid injury. The leading edge of his attack sliced deeply into her right shoulder. A deep stain of crimson spred upon the pristine white of her clothing. Before the it could take her arm, however, the blow was cut abruptly off by white luminescence from the dark tear ripped suddenly into the agonized heavens above. The light shimmered like the purest of sunlight cutting through stormclouds around the woman it showered.

"What?!" Bleeding and wide-eyed, Wendrok glared up into the uncaring blackness. "NO!" Her voice rose in pitch, her knuckles grew pallid with the grip on the hilt of her sword. Her free hand clenched the wound in her shoulder. "I'm not done! I can finish him!"

.No answer was granted. Slowly, smoothly, the bloodied and beaten woman rose into the blackness. The seam shut itself off with the sound of a record being scratched by its player's needle.

Once she was gone, unsettling silence fell over the scene over the shop.

Brown eyes met grey.

"Shall we?" Urahara's voice was low, without any of the mirth he usually held at the forefront.

Ukitake nodded, then turned his head in the direction of familiar flaring reiatsu.

Heaviness had again fallen over the two warriors. This fight was far from over.

Without another word, the two vanished from the scene – bound for their embattled comrades.

* * *

_**Finally**_ **a new chapter, 'eh? I'm really very sorry for the wait. February wasn't particularly kind to me. Here's hoping March is better. I really hope this was worth it! It's always fun writing Ukitake's darker/tougher side. Urahara's always fun in battle, too.**

**Reviews, as always are very appreciated.**

**omgitskirby - Thank you for the review! I'm glad you liked it. I'm also happy you picked up on that detail about Meg's name. XD Sorry about the confusion...is it my writing style, or the events in the story. I'm always glad of constructive criticism if you're inclined to give it. Better writing = more enjoyment, after all. ;)**


	23. Chapter 23

The two men had been out on a regular patrol when the first arc of electricity had shot out. Renji had barely avoided the blow, remembering all too well how it had felt the first time.

It only went from bad to worse from there.

The two had been driven to the grounds of the partly demolished Matsukura Hospital by squads of black-clad humans. Each individual sported the same strange eyewear the bum from the concealed base had worn. The spectral warriors could only do so much against them without actually harming them – especially considering the already crumbling structure close by.

Then, the hollows began appearing.

When the humans below had scattered once the first few of their ranks were literally torn apart, the beasts had zeroed in on the Lieutenant and Substitute.

The fight had been grueling, as one beast after another closed in on the two without pause. Ordinarily, they would have been able to dispatch them with relative ease, but the goggled humans below forced them to be careful to avoid anything that would put the spectators in any more danger than possible.

The tattooed reaper had been caught off guard when Ichigo yelled with surprise and blood flew from the teen's thigh thanks to the whip at the hands at one foolish human below them.

Zabimaru bit deeply into the mask of the hollow he had been battling, before Renji turned to grab the back of his friend's uniform and drag him out of the way of the sparking electricity.

Another sparking lash came from below again, and left an angry red slash to bleed high on the crimson-haired man's hip, then continue across the chiseled abs visible from the ragged tear in his kosode.

Before Abarai could counter, the winged hollow sporting slimy tentacles from its mask and barbs along its forearms Ichigo had been fighting when he'd been hit swept down at the man crouched by one of the many heavily rusted benches lining the courtyard between hospital and ancient parking ramp.

Again the whip flew. It wrapped tightly around the hollow's neck. Upon feeling the resistance on his weapon, the fool yanked. Those goggles either didn't show them details, or the man didn't think the massive spectral being could do that much damage, but the beast came down squarely on top of him.

Renji shook his head at the resultant strangled cry which cut off before the beleaguered shinigami could step in. Instead, he flash stepped with Ichigo to another area. Suddenly, the white of Uryu's shirt flickered into sight, followed closely by the gentle blue and grey of Meg's ensemble, then finally by Ryuken, still immaculate in his dignified suit.

A blazing storm of bright blue arrows let lose by the archers eliminated the rest of the hollows.

Renji and Ichigo touched down by the newcomers, behind the safety of the rubble from what used to be the outer wall of the building's third story.

"What's the situation?" Uryu took in the condition of the two, even as the words left his lips.

A patch of his classmate's orange hair on the left side of his head was stained a dark red with sticky blood, and Abarai bore a shallow gash along the right side of his jaw, crimson still wet against the black inked side of his neck. Besides that, outside of their ragged clothing and fresh injuries from that whip, they seemed no worse for wear.

Kurosaki peered around the edge of the rubble at the humans slowly inching their way back into the open, lured into a false sense of security by the lack of explosions and whatever they saw through the strange eyewear. "We were out on patrol when we got spotted…or whatever…by these freaks. As we were trying to loose 'em, the hollows started to appear."

Renji shook his head. "It ain't easy fighting those things without causing much damage, or getting humans hurt. 'Specially ones dead set on getting _us_ hurt."

Ichigo watched as the bodies of the fallen where dragged from the battlefield.

Five sets of eyes lifted to the sky as a familiar cold heaviness again settled into their shoulders and chests, and the signature scratch of a garganta opening ripped through the air.

"Crap," Renji growled as the white-clad figure stepped out.

Uryu's eyes widened, "But…wasn't he…?"

"I thought so, too," Ichigo muttered.

"What on earth are you going on about?" Ryuken's dry voice uttered the question on his and Meg's minds.

Before an answer could be given, the pink haired Espada gave an amused laugh. "Oh, _my_. And what do we have here?" Amber eyes peered through bone-rimmed glasses as wind whipped at his white hakama and pink hair.

"Granz," Renji slowly stood, his voice low.

"Oooh, Renji Abarai. Uryu Ishida." He smiled broadly. "So you _did_ survive, hm?"

Those amused eyes swept the scarred field.

"You've been busy. I see the famed Ichigo Kurosaki, as well. And is that the elder Ishida? Uryu, you lied. You're not the last Quincy at all, are you?"

Unsettlingly, the gaze fell on the winged woman. "And the lovely flying toy. This should be quite a show."

"Who…?" Meg tensed at the Espada's contemplation, inhumanly dark eyes flickering between the spectacle above and the slowly emerging humans creeping across the stained concrete below.

"Szayel Aporro Granz," Uryu answered. "We'd thought he'd died in our trip to Hueco Mundo…it looks like we were wrong."

The young woman frowned upon translating enough to understand. "Ah…"

The high laugh rang through the air. "Indeed you were, Quincy." His attention fell to the figures below. "You humans can be quite amusing, you know." Slowly, he lowered enough to pluck one unfortunate man up by his collar.

The hapless operative yelled in surprise as he found himself hefted by an unseen hand.

With a single, precise movement, the Espada pulled the goggles from the man's head and flicked him to the side, just like a child would drop an uninteresting plaything. "What _are_ these ugly things, I wonder."

Impulsively, Ichigo shot out to catch the screaming man before he met his death against the jagged rebar bent awkwardly from a partially crumbled wall. He still ended up dropping the soldier a good eight feet when the arc of electricity rang out from the parking garage. It grazed along his shoulder before he was able to get back under cover behind what was left of the hospital wall. "SHIT!"

The man ran for his life and sought shelter against the side of the crumbling building.

The sight of their flying colleague was enough to send the humans back to the safety of the small parking ramp for another regroup.

Uryu's sharp midnight eyes assessed the scene.

It was obvious they couldn't let the human forces see Meg, himself or his father. It was also getting to be more apparent that the goggles the humans wore offered little more than a good idea of where spirit bodies were, considering their overall shoddy aim.

If the humans could see Ichigo and Renji clearly, they would have dealt far greater damage than they already have. The junior Ishida had no doubt these soldiers were each highly trained marksmen in their own right.

"I have an idea," the young archer spoke up, once Ichigo made his way back over.

"Yeah?" Renji glanced over, easily recognizing the dark-haired man's tone, then leaned in closer with the others at the young man's beckoning.

"Ryuken and I should act as snipers," Uryu began in a hushed whisper, once the small group was huddled close, "since we're perfectly visible to the operatives when stationary. By nature, our weapons are suited to distance battle, anyway. We will shift position frequently enough to prevent them from pinpointing our locations; we are invisible to normal humans when using hirenkyaku, after all. We can also manipulate our arrows, which should further confuse their senses." Sapphire eyes glanced at the winged woman, "Meg can also maneuver our arrows, so long as we manifest them for her first." He smiled quietly, "We have been practicing."

The girl smiled slowly and nodded.

"So, we will disarm the operatives. You and Renji can keep Granz busy until either Ukitake and Urahara arrive, or we are able to drive our targets into retreat. If anything, you might even get him to withdraw, since he doesn't like hand to hand fighting at all."

"Helloooo," the condescending voice came from above as he tossed the goggles away, just as he had the man who had been wearing them originally. "Are you finished with your little chat, children?"

Ichigo nodded to Uryu. "Sounds good. Let's go."

The teen shot into the sky with Renji, as Ryuken shot up to the roof of the building.

* * *

**I had a hell of a time with this chapter. Not a whole lot of action, but at least it sets the scene for the next part. I almost have the rest of the fic written out. Just a couple of holes to fill in.**

**I love Granz...he's such a cruel, demented guy. Enjoy, all. As always, feedback is very much appreciated!**


	24. Chapter 24

Ryuken had no intention of taking an active role in the fight. He crouched low upon the scarred roof of the building and took stock of his surroundings. Judging from the scored surface of the hardened tar under his feet, this particular building had already seen battle long ago.

God only knew why the decrepit structure still hasn't been demolished. The administrator knew it probably had something to do with red tape and paperwork involving that idiotic television program from years ago. The entertainment business held very little esteem in his estimation.

Above him, the two shinigami were taking shots at the pink haired Espada so unnervingly familiar with his son. Below, Uryu was taking impeccable aim at the humans' weaponry. As soon as one man would raise a weapon, he would fall back upon its explosion in their hands. Before the humans could locate where the flashes of light were coming from through their goggles, Uryu would expertly enforce hirenkyaku in order to switch locations and again loose arrows in their directions.

The steely blue gaze fixated on the young winged woman, then. He noticed his son loosing extra arrows, which would then shift to more of a greenish hue, then boost in power before hurling into various levels of the parking garage – adding further confusion to the ranks. Every time she concentrated on one of those projectiles, the bright glow of her eyes would intensify, and the air itself would ripple before the hand she lifted to help solidify her focus.

Her attention was slightly split between her task with the energetic manipulation, and keeping tabs on the enemies. After a couple of volleys, she would vanish to another vantage point. Her technique did look a great deal like the Quincy speed, but the energy pooled within the curves her wings as apposed to below her feet.

He narrowed his eyes as they went from the young woman to her targets.

Every time one of those altered arrows made contact with its unseen mark, a shower of sparks would appear from within the shadows of the ramp. Puzzled, he crept towards the garage along the roof.

Just what was that girl aiming for?

His thoughts were pulled away when the red-haired soul reaper barreled down at him. He dodged to the side at the last instant, but was still engulfed in the cloud kicked up by the man's impact with the already fragile rooftop.

Without a second thought, he leapt to grab the dazed man as soon as he felt the structure beneath his feet shudder, slung him over his shoulder, and transported him via hirenkyaku to his son, who was crouched behind a battered out-building not far from the parking ramp.

Uryu spared him a glance, before his eyes again flickered across the field to the winged shadow perched in one of the few old trees scattered about the grounds. With battle hardened skill, he loosed several more arrows. Ryuken could barely feel a subtle pulse pass between the two young people, and with that unspoken communication, the arrows shifted to green. They then split and obliterated the few weapons still intact and aimed at the occupants so high above them.

The elder Ishida laid the unconscious shinigami out on the ground.

One fierce eye was already swollen shut, and what looked like a chemical burn was spreading down the cheek under the bruise blossoming over the eye and left cheek-bone.

Before either Quincy could react, a calloused hand flashed to the silver haired man's throat. If the doctor's reflexes had been a fraction slower in pulling back, his wind-pipe would have been crushed.

"Renji!" Uryu's startled cry sounded as the reaper's unswollen eye slowly opened.

The reddish brown was dulled, the eye glazed. Slowly, as if he were moving in water, Abarai sat up.

Brilliant blue flashed to live with the summoning of the cross-bow in Ryuken's hand as he stood and backed away from the redhead.

Suddenly, two new spiritual pressures arrived above - the ordinarily serene captain, and the irritating shopkeeper. The power of the two was staggering, even repressed as it was. The sky darkened by several shades upon their arrival and the air grew electric. The cry of fireworks sounded as Kisuke's scarlet attack flew at the pink haired Espada.

Ichigo was then free to flash step to the two archers and his friend. Zangetsu blocked Zabimaru's swing at Uryu's chest. "Keep distracting the government types," the teen growled gratingly from behind his mask, "I'll keep Renji at bay." Black eyes, startlingly like Meg's, glared at the man brandishing the sectioned sword before him. "That pink haired bastard hit him with something."

The two reapers rose into the sky with a fury of sword strikes, the two captains above illuminating the sky with bright flashes of kidou and shikai attacks against the Espada.

The elder Ishida clenched his jaw and retreated from the dueling shinigami, and his son who had again turned back to the daunting task of disarming the Living forces.

He had no idea just how many soldiers there were, but the number seemed impossibly high, as more appeared yet again. This time, he let arrows fly – picking out a gun here, a whip there.

The man carried his pride like an invisible suite of armor against a brutal world, but at the end of the day, practicality and protective instinct always won out. Cold rage rose within his chest at the low of a huge engine start up. Blinding twin lights of pure white lit up from within the lowest level of the parking garage.

Green flared out of the corner of his eye as one of Uryu's arrows was taken over by the winged woman, then grew subtly in power before it flashed at the truck rumbling its way into the open. A headlight shattered. The resultant effect reminded Ryuken of a one-eyed beast rising from its lair. The soldiers closest by ducked at the sudden explosion of glass and electricity, but still the truck rumbled on.

Slowly, it rolled to a stop in front of the utility building his son was still crouched behind.

More darkly-clad figures leapt from the back of the scarred truck, and the hum of machinery rose – a metallic window slid open in the side of the truck. It revealed a matte black box, which in turn contained a deep, circular indentation at its center. Within the indentation's core rose a circular bubble.

It looked for all the world like some sort of high powered speaker – very much like the sort found at large scale concerts, except built into the armored truck instead of anchored by a stage.

Dimly, he was aware of the unconscious tattooed reaper falling from the sky, but caught by his battered comrade before hitting earth, as well as the three way fight between the other two shinigami and the strange arrancar coming to an abrupt halt at the appearance of the vehicle.

A low tone boomed within the chests of the spiritual beings, and those with enough spiritual pressure to witness the battle so far overhead. Ryuken's eyes widened as the circle within the box visibly bounced with the vibration.

Suddenly, he knew just what Meg was taking aim at before. He rose his bow, zipped to a hidden position in a doorway of the battered hospital and let his bolt fly.

The Espada between Ukitake and Urahara slapped his hands over his ears even as the two men fell back at the piercing electronic scream ripping through their consciousnesses.

Below, Ichigo stumbled back a few steps while struggling to support his knocked out friend, battle weary muscle hardening at the horrible shriek.

Ryuken's arrow faltered and harmlessly hit the earth a few inches away from the tire of the massive truck threatening them, as the sound ruthlessly penetrated his being as well.

Several feet away, Uryu gripped his head at the sudden pain from the screech, narrowed eyes casting along the battle-field before him. He couldn't _think_ for the intensity of the agony. Blood trickled from under one of his hands.

Suddenly, the sound was gone, along with any contact with his weapon. A fraction of a second later, he registered a small hand closed around his bicep. Startled, he raised midnight eyes to the neon peirced onyx of the woman suddenly at his side.

"Meg?" He asked, a little confused, frowning subtly at the slight wrinkle to her brow, the determined set of her jaw, and the sorrowful glisten to her eyes.

"Uryu," she whispered.

"What is it…?" His heart stalled within his chest at the quiet waver in her voice.

"Please," she breathed. "Forgive me," and she leaned in before he could do anything else, her trembling lips pressing to his in an intense, burning kiss.

He immediately forgot the question he was about to ask. Instinctively, his hand slid up her arm, along the soft skin of her neck, and threaded his fingers into the silken hair at the back of her head. His other arm secured itself around the curve of her waist, pulling her battle heated body snuggly to his.

Strong, slender arms wound around his shoulders, and all too breifly, the kiss deepened – fueled by an aching desire cursed to go unfullfilled. Reluctantly, she broke the kiss. The young woman then drew away from him, and watched his face for several long seconds. Shaking hands swept through hair dark and soft as a summer's night, then cupped his sweaty face gently, reverently.

"What are you...?" He murmured, the hand lost within the softness of her hair circling to brush its long, graceful fingers across a cheek damp with salty tears and blood freshly summoned from a glancing blow from flying debris.

She shook her head, and leaned her face lightly into his carress. "We'll find each other again."

"What?" Blue eyes widened in realization of what she was about to do, just before she withdrew, and the crippling scream again sliced into his brain.

Helplessly, he watched as she streaked into the midst of the anonymous, hostile figures. The young woman's sorrowful features contorted with immense pain – both physical and otherwise. Claws extended from her fingertips and scored their way into the speaker built into the side of the van. Once, twice – the third time, a massive shower of sparks burst from the device's heart and the tortuous noise was blessedly gone.

A strong, lean arm wrapped itself around Uryu's chest just as he lurched forward in an attempt to get to her. His father held him back and slapped a hand over his mouth to muffle anything from his mouth. Fiercely, he wrenched against the firm grip Ryuken had on him, only to fall back into the man as he maneuvered his son off balance.

In horror, he watched as the black clad figures closed in on the winged girl. She bared her fangs and sliced at the first one to strike – opening a bloody gash in his face, before she took the throat of the next one. More crimson joined what was already on her skin and soaked into the gift of clothing that she had treasured so dearly.

There was a muffled explosion, and her body lurched – a dart protruding from the outside of her right thigh. There were two more small blasts, and suddenly two more darts appeared – one protruding from the left side of her neck, and another from her chest, just in front of the ball of her right shoulder.

Still, she flared her wings and leapt into the sky, only to stiffen and fall back to earth when two of those nasty whips wrapped themselves around her torso and sent tendrils of electricity to crawl over every inch of her laboring figure. Breath struggled in her chest where she fell, the dart in her chest driven deeper when her body impacted upon it.

Sapphire eyes met inken jet one last time before she was bound and loaded into the truck.

Shinigami joined Quincy as the machine rumbled away. The Espada was nowhere in sight.

"We need to go," Urahara spoke soberly, no sense of mirth in his voice. His hat was not in evidence when he touched down, and the sharp grey of his eyes stood out boldly from the deep red flowing from a gash hidden by his hairline.

Ukitake was at his side, haori lightly stained with some sort of black substance, and part of sleeve of his shihakusho gone – as if eaten away by something acidic. The rasp deep in his chest was far more noticeable than it had been before the battle.

"But," Uryu pulled himself free from his father, "What about Meg?" Frantic eyes darted between the men, the white of his shirt ruined by dirt and blood.

Urahara shook his head, then glanced up as Ichigo helped a barely awake Renji over – the two covered in gashes and looking ready to fall at any moment. "There's nothing we can do right now. We will get her back, though. Don't worry about that."

The shopkeeper relieved Ichigo of his burden as Ukitake shouldered the substitute's weight before the younger man could protest.

Uryu clenched his jaw as he glanced over at the remaining humans beginning their hasty clean-up of the area. Common sense won out over passion, however, and mutely, he followed the rest back to safety.

* * *

**I know...I am _so_ mean.**

**I decided to go back through this chapter and clean it up some more. I must have been pretty tired when I did post it, since there were so many stupid mistakes and awkward wordings. Drives me nuts when I do that. This is probably why I should get a beta reader, 'eh?**

**Well, as promised before, I've put up a complimentary short in which Ichigo and Renji fight, and Ukitake/Urahara go at it with Szayel. It's... Hollow Hunters-Battles under my profile.**

**Yeah, creative title, 'eh?  
**


	25. Chapter 25

It had been several days since the fight. Once healed of the worst of their wounds, the battered warriors had gone on regular patrols to find the people who had brought the winged woman into their lives, and then taken her away just as quickly.

Each and every time, they returned to the shop disappointed and frustrated. Nothing was found. Always nothing was found.

Renji and Jyushiro had left that afternoon after yet another unsuccessful prowl around Karakura and Tokyo. They were both high ranking officers, and had to take care of their own responsibilities in their own world, after all. They had both been resigned to their duties, although neither of them liked it.

Through it all, Rukia had remained in the Soul Society, thanks in part to her brother's protective nature, and Captain Unohana's orders. The small statured reaper had taken a number of hits from the humans' whips, as well as their guns, and had been the unfortunate brunt of attack from a particularly nasty hollow. It was a wonder that she had been able to make it to Urahara and his group at all.

Regardless, with their fresh absence, it seemed even more as if Meg and her current captors hadn't even existed in the first place.

Battle scars in earth had somehow disappeared overnight, and the crumbling hospital had been restored to its former, run down state.

On the one hand, it would have just been easier to rip it down and leave a vacant lot in its wake, but Kisuke had the feeling that would have been just a little too conspicuous. These people most definitely did not want traces of their presence to linger, and they had expertly done all in their considerable power to make their disappearance complete.

It could very well have been a shared dream.

Physical wounds indicated otherwise, however, and emotional wounds carved especially deep – most notably for the young Quincy.

The shopkeeper was worried for the Uryu Ishida. Those usually bright blue eyes had been glazed when they parted company after that final battle, and Ichigo had said that the young archer had scarcely said two words to him or anyone else he knew of since that day.

Urahara frowned as he knelt in the training ground where the lingering traces of Meg's reiatsu were strongest, mangled black fabric held carefully in his hands.

He would just have to trust in Ryuken's ability to strengthen his son for now. What he was about to attempt would take all of his considerable concentration and skill.

While he had managed to map out some of the strange energy the operatives controlled, it was still just erratic enough to make getting a simple fix on the location nearly impossible.

He was able to do it, however.

Urahara already knew it would be impossible to break through the strange, scrambling barrier the humans had erected for a full out rescue. Not only would it be a fools' errand to break into that particular snake's nest in the first place, but he had no idea of the effects the transfer would have on anyone who went through it.

Much as he hated to admit it, the exile wasn't entirely sure of how well what he was about to attempt would work, for that matter. Simple location was one thing, but when it came to opening a line of communication, he still wasn't completely sure of how effective this particular bit of kidou would be.

There was only one way to find out.

Where her sleeping mat had once been was now a frame of four feet tall by four feet wide, carved out of obsidian and shined to a bright sheen. Carefully, he laid the ruined jumpsuit before the polished stone structure as if he were making an offering to some strange, faceless god.

He then lifted his hands, palms facing the stone, and cleared his mind of everything but the focus of reishi.

A bright white glow lit upon his long fingers and palms as he intoned, "Raven fly free – lost within night's darkness. Blade strike sure – slice clean through embattled prey."

Tendrils of light spiraled into the emptiness of the frame from the tips of his fingers.

"Ether thin and souls bind. Open eyes, and reveal that which is unseen."

A single brilliant strobe blinded the shopkeeper for a second, but he did not allow his concentration to waver, or the flow of reiatsu to cease.

When the light faded, he was presented with a view of what appeared to be a room of complete white – from floor to ceiling. There was only a hospital bed bolted to the center of the floor. The sole occupant lay prone upon the hard, thin mattress.

The crisp white sheet covered her body from the gentle curve of her hips down past her feet, terminating in a disturbingly soft fall off the edge of the bed. Shapely legs were outlined limply within the neat drape of sterile fabric. Smooth skin was like marble in the harsh light, and the graceful dip of her naked lower back gave way to snuggly wrapped bandages spanning from mid-back to shoulders.

There was little color in the room.

Outside of pervasive white, there was only the shadow of her hair, now in a fierce buzz-cut – he couldn't even see the red evident when she was with them –that of her lashes feathered against her cheeks and her brows knit in a pained grimace. The lack of color made the crimson which still seeped through the bindings against her back stand out all the more boldly.

His heart stalled.

They had taken her wings.

"Oh, Meg," he breathed.

At his soft utterance, black eyes snapped open – even the green of her pupils was washed out.

Once that agonized, exhausted gaze finally focused on him and confusion cleared, her pale lips moved. Though no sound issued forth, he read his name there.

He held a finger to his own lips in an unspoken request for her silence. "Will you be healed in three months' time?" He whispered, trusting she could hear and understand him.

Quietly, she nodded.

"Good," he murmured, leaning towards the small portal slightly. "Will you be able to find a way out by then?"

The image flickered around the ages as the exhausted young woman thought for a few moments. Finally, she again nodded subtly.

Shadowed eyes glittered as he dipped his head in a mirror of the gesture. "Watch for a sign from me at that time. This is not the end."

The muscles in her throat worked as she swallowed. After a brief battle with her failing strength, she finally mouthed a silent "ok".

The last thing he saw of her before the connection gave in to the scrambling energies of the base was a solitary teardrop tracking its way across the bridge of her nose, countered by a desperate resolve hardening like steel cooling from the forge within the inken depths of her eyes.

He found himself staring through the emptiness of the frame at the sand on the other side.

Breifly, his shoulders slumped and his head bowed. Drawing a breath, he carefully folded the battered black fabric between him and the now dormant stone portal, pulled himself to his feet, then turned to exit the desert, holding the bundle which had once graced the figure of the wayward woman under his right arm.

There was still much to do.

* * *

**So, here it is - the final installment to Hollow Hunters. *brushes a tear away* My first completed fic in years. Thanks everyone who's read and commented. Special thanks to Haddrell for her faithful feedback. It's extremely appreciated!**

**The sequal to this story is The Arrow's Blade, which can be found on my profile, if anyone is interested in continuing to follow the events.**

**Also, I'm still working on the Ichigo vs Renji and Urahara/Ukitake vs Szayel fights. This chapter and the first of the next story just took over my attention is all.  
**


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